Friday, April 28, 2017

Best Women's Erotica in Cosmopolitan

Rachel Kramer Bussel, editor of Best Women's Erotica of the Year, Volume 2, got in touch recently to share this picture:



(In case you can't read the print in the picture, it says: "[Reading erotic literature is] a safe way to experiment with your sexuality. If you're curious about BDSM, you can read about it (we like Best Women's Erotica of the Year, by Rachel Kramer Bussel) and see if it turns you on. Then when you add a partner to the mix, it's easier to articulate what you like." This advice comes from the owners of The Ripped Bodice, a bookstore in Los Angeles that specializes in selling romance novels.)

Not only is it exciting to see the book mentioned in Cosmopolitan, this is a wise piece of advice. Both reading and writing erotica have given me space to explore my desires. I think this can be particularly important for those of us socialized female—I learned a lot about doing the opposite while growing up, saying, "No, what do you want," etc, and so learning what my sexual desires are and how to talk about them has taken a lot of time and development.

Best Women's Erotica deserves a shoutout in this respect because Rachel is really great about including a broad variety of stories in the volumes she edits. Her books are a great jumping off place for exploration. (And, while this particular book does include my story, "On Some Maps, But Not on Others," I'm not just saying this...).

If you'd like to check the book out, you can find it here.

Also, if you're in LA, it looks like it would be a good idea to check out The Ripped Bodice. Seems like a cool place!

Thursday, April 27, 2017

Curiosities for the Center for Sexual Pleasure and Health

Hey friends! The lovely humans at the Center for Sexual Pleasure and Health are having an online auction to raise money for the organization.

There are a bunch of cool things available online—bidding runs until April 30 at 10 am ET. Many of them could be purchased by someone who doesn't live in New England. I wanted, however, to highlight, a few cool things for New England-area folks.

In particular:

Pleasure Pie is offering a Pastie Making or Zine Making workshop!


Melanie Lucash, who is one of the loveliest people you will ever meet, is offering to run a Tea and Empathy workshop!


Ever want to talk to a bunch of smart, kind people about sexual health and pleasure? You could have dinner for two with the entire CSPH staff!


Maybe I'm just fantasizing about cool things I'd like to do myself... There's also lots of art, books, furniture, you name it. You can check out the auction here.

And if you'd like to attend the live event tomorrow (Friday, April 28th from 6-9 pm) in Pawtucket, RI, tickets are on sale here. You can see what will be up for auction here. I will be there! Let me know if you will be, too, and maybe we can say hi in person. :)

This is one of my very favorite nonprofits, and I'd love to see lots of people participate in the auction!

Wednesday, April 26, 2017

Free Boot Worship Fiction: Living Leather

I wrote this story recently just for fun, and I thought I'd share with all of you. Looking back over it, it owes a debt to the work of Laura Antoniou and Xan West, both of whom have written extremely hot stories involving boots. I hope you enjoy!

I wasn’t the one fucking Sarah, but it felt like I was. From my spot in the corner on the floor, I watched my master slide the toe of his boot up Sarah’s slit, then pull it away glistening.

Sarah lay in the exact center of my master’s living room, her black hair spread out around her as if it were part of the intricate pattern woven into his rug. Her hands stretched above her head—I’d tied them together and attached them to the coffee table I’d moved out of the way for the occasion. Her breasts were too full to point upward when she lay on her back. They spilled out to either side, as though her torso could not contain their abundance. Her stomach quivered visibly in response to my master’s movements. She’d spread her legs wide at his request, but she was obviously struggling to keep still. Her thigh muscles twitched occasionally, and her toes wriggled.

He returned his boot to her cunt, blocking my view of her exposed wetness. Sarah whimpered, and her right foot pointed sharply.

I sat as I’d been told to, silently, legs folded under me, hands laced together and resting atop my thighs. I was naked, and I could feel my cunt dripping onto my right heel. It was so tempting to shift a few inches so I could get more pressure from that heel where it counted, but that wasn’t in the line with the spirit of what I’d been commanded to do, so I remained still and watched.

My master stood between me and Sarah. His boots shone in the way of highly polished black marble, and that was my work. I’d spent hours on those boots before Sarah came over, bent over his feet while he relaxed. For some of it, he watched me or ran his fingers through my hair as I stroked the leather with tongue and cloth and conditioner. At other times, he leaned back in his chair and scrolled through his smartphone, mostly ignoring me. For parts of it, he rested his other boot on my back, holding me close to the floor.

I still ached—between the shoulderblades, in the forearms, at the root of my tongue. But after this and many other mornings of such attention, those boots felt as much a part of me as my own fingers. With my tears, my labor, my saliva, my love, I’d poured my own life into them, and that energy flowed forth from them now.

Sarah’s legs jerked toward each other, and my master’s boot stopped moving. “Keep them spread, sweetheart,” he coaxed, his tone dangerous. “Don’t hide that pretty cunt of yours. Especially not while I’m playing with it.”

She groaned and walked her heels out wide again. She had gorgeous feet—supple and expressive. Even if I hadn’t known what my master was doing to her, I might have guessed at her ecstatic agony from the lines of her arches. Her feet curled and uncurled in rhythm with his motions.

I wasn’t touching her physically, but my body tingled as if my nervous system connected to the living, breathing leather of his boot. I shivered, knowing in a deep way that her entrance rippled at that moment around his booted toe.

She gave one sweet sigh, and he pulled back. It must have been his signal to switch from giving pleasure to giving pain. The polished boot shifted to rest on her bare thigh. “Are you going to hold still for me?”
“Mmm-hmm,” she moaned.

He applied weight until she sucked in her breath, then switched to the other thigh. I could see a red mark on her flesh where his boot had been, and that belonged to me, too. Pain made her feet flex. Her toes strained toward the ceiling, and her calf muscles went taut. My legs tightened in sympathy.

“Good girl,” my master said, and went back to stroking her pussy with the boot. I knew how soft that leather was, and how it would absorb the warmth of Sarah’s body and feed it back to her, along with the warmth I’d given it and the warmth radiating from my master’s toes.

Sarah’s breath hitched, and I heard the distinct sound of a sob.

“You’ve been such a good girl,” he murmured. From where I sat, it looked like he wasn’t moving at all anymore, but I could imagine the tiny movement of his boot, the toe rocking just within her, as gentle as the lap of water against the sides of a mostly still pond.

“Can you keep being good, even if I untie you?” my master asked.

Sarah gave a tearful sound of assent.

“Come,” he said to me. “Get her free.”

I crawled quickly to loosen Sarah’s bonds. She’d played with us before, and knew we preferred for her not to acknowledge me. I liked the scents, sounds, and sights of sex. I loved being a tool that facilitated it. But I did not want the hole that was fucked to belong to me, and I did not want to be the person applying a fucking directly. My master’s positive attention pleased me, but my favorite moments were when he seemed to forget me, when he trusted his boots to me without acknowledgement or correction, when he treated me as an object that functioned perfectly without any need for intervention.

So I untied Sarah’s hands smoothly, careful to give her a little rope burn in the process because I knew she liked that. And I put the rope away neatly and then returned to my corner as my master gave Sarah permission to ride his boot.

She clung to his leg and dried her tears on the fabric of his jeans. Her position was awkward—back arched, straddling the floor, ass thrust out to give her the angle she needed to rub her clit against his toe. She closed her eyes and began to rock her hips, and she was fucking me now, taking me in, taking pleasure from the leather I had made soft and supple for my master as well as for her.

She grunted rhythmically as she rutted against his boot, looking gorgeous and depraved. And then, like a rare jewel falling from a tightly sealed satchel, a single moan escaped my master’s lips. The sounds from the two of them washed over my whole body, and a deep satisfaction lodged in my lower belly in a way that was no less intense than the orgasm that took Sarah a few minutes later.

My head was dizzy and my thoughts caught up in both of them. The taste of leather still lingered in the corners of my mouth. The sharp, clear scent of Sarah’s cunt spread through the room and washed all else away. Her feet moved frantically as she struggled through the last moments of her orgasm.

Then she went still, body curled around my master’s boots, one foot tucked tightly against the other. For a little while, none of us moved. Pins and needles tingled in my lower legs, but I wouldn’t be first to break the spell. At last, my master nudged Sarah gently with his toe.

“Kiss them,” he said.

Sarah pressed grateful kisses to each of his boots. Then, without being asked, she began to lick, cleaning her juices from the leather. Her movements reminded me of a kitten, quick and tender. I felt strong and indefatigable while licking those boots, but Sarah performed the same action with playfulness and vulnerability.

I looked forward to tasting that mood the next time I touched my own tongue to the leather. I shivered with pride, thinking of all those boots are, were, and could be—for me, for my master, and now for her as well. They were part of all of us, and so I was part of both of them.

My master praised Sarah for her thorough work, and then took a seat in his usual chair. “Use your mouth to take off the boots,” he said. “And then leave them next to the chair.”

Sarah couldn’t do that smoothly, but I enjoyed watching her, sweaty, sated, and a little clumsy. She bit laces and tugged them loose, and my master ran his fingers through her hair as he let her figure out the nuances on her own. Her feet moved in sympathy as she concentrated on his.

At last, the boots were off, and he leaned forward and gathered her naked body into his arms. Without a word to me, he lifted her off the floor and carried her toward the bedroom, but I knew they hadn’t forgotten me, because there the boots waited beside the chair, well-fucked and well-used, well-prepared for all my tender ministrations.

I crawled toward them and bent my head to breathe them in—the scents of Sarah’s cunt, her saliva, my master’s feet. Underneath all that was the animal scent of leather itself, a wildness that sometimes seemed to me to be responsible for the passion that rose up within us. I kissed the boots myself, enjoying how warm they felt against my lips.

As soft moans reached me from the bedroom, I held the boots close and set to work to make them shine again.

Tuesday, April 25, 2017

We're Unspeakably Erotic!

I just got the word from editor D.L. King that her latest anthology, Unspeakably Erotic: 20 Stories of Lesbian Kink, is up for preorder on Amazon!



It includes my story, "Simultaneous." I really went for it with this one—thinking about it now I realized I took a whole bunch of my personal fantasies and worked them into one wild scene. This story includes piercing, fisting, group sex, orgasm denial, and D/s in the form of a dominant masochist. So it's super hot to me.

I'm also proud because I like to write stories that contrast with common expectations. There's a lot of shame flying around about "topping from the bottom." In "Simultaneous," I wrote a story where that's the plan and expectation. The domme is the bottom, and that's the way the characters like it. This sort of thing is personally important to me because I'm definitely a masochist, but sometimes what I really need is to have control of how I'm being hurt.

Knowing D.L. King, I'm sure the rest of these stories will be scorching. You can check out the table of contents below. Can I mention how excited I am to share pages again with Rose P. Lethe? (I still shiver when thinking about her story, "A Professional," which was in the 20th anniversary edition of Best Lesbian Erotica). I also see plenty of other names I know and love: Sonni de Soto, Sacchi Green, Kathleen Tudor, and more. And the thing is, half the fun of these anthologies is getting to know the writers I'm not already familiar with. There never fails to be a story that floors me, written by some talented person I've never heard of before.

Here's the full list of what's to come:

Pygmalion   J. Belle Lamb
CBT   Pascal Scott
The Auction   Tamsin Flowers
Support Service   Sonni de Soto
Blue Plate Special: Your Boot on My Cunt   Avery Cassell
Simultaneous   Annabeth Leong
Private Party   Rose P. Lethe
Training Zoe   Meghan O'Brien
Use Me   Kiki DeLovely
Cuckold   B.D. Swain
The Last Kink   Cecilia Duvalle
In a Pinch   Janelle Reston
Baubles and Beads   Sacchi Green
Appetite   Emily Bingham
Bitch Slap   Sir Manther
Aloha a Trois   Kathleen Tudor
Date Night   Brey Willows
The Last of Marengo   Mary Tintagel
Close Edge   Elinor Zimmerman
Bedtime Story   Robyn Nyx

If lesbian kink erotica is your thing, please consider pushing the preorder button on Amazon—either for the print edition or the kindle edition.

You may or may not be aware, but these sorts of anthologies are becoming less common now than they were in the past, and that's a shame because I personally love them. It really helps for people to show interest up front. I love doing these, and I love them as a reader, and I'd like to see them keep going.

Until next time! <3 <3 <3

Monday, April 24, 2017

Scissoring for Refinery29

Hey, check out this cool thing! An excerpt from my story "Scissoring" was published in Refinery29! "Scissoring" is a first-time lesbian story involving urgent, exploratory sex in a public bathroom.

Editor Extraordinaire Rachel Kramer Bussel has been curating a selection of erotic stories there, and it's a great series to check out if you're looking for new authors, or new types of erotica to explore. Rachel is a master of offering a broad range of high-quality stories.

So, yeah, check out Scissoring, and then stick around to explore.

And if you'd like to read the entire story, it was originally published in Inked, which you can find here.

Sunday, April 23, 2017

Hawaii Is A Real Place

I was born in Hawaii, and lived there for the first decade of my life. My father was native Hawaiian, Chinese, and Portuguese and my mother is English. I grew up wrestling with difficult questions about race and identity, exacerbated by my own mixed blood and the feeling that I didn't belong anywhere, especially not after I left the island. As part of that, I feel a complicated mix of pride in Hawaii's history, anguish over the way it was illegally annexed and taken over by the United States government, and awareness that I was born a citizen of the United States and Hawaii is an important part of this nation now. My father served in the army during the Vietnam War, and that experience marked his entire life. In many ways, I'd say it was for the worse, but I also know I could never have buried him without the veterans benefits he had earned.

So this is complicated and important stuff.

I've had some weird racial experiences by virtue of coming from Hawaii. Once in the late 90s, near the Arizona border, I was pulled off a Greyhound bus by the INS, along with a group of Spanish-speaking people I'd been sitting with and talking to. (I think this may have been a case of racial-profiling-by-association, especially because when I'm tan I've often been mistaken for Latina). In the course of being searched and questioned, I presented my U.S. Passport. "Born in Hawaii?" the officer sneered. "When were you naturalized?"

To which I replied, "1959, when the territory was made a state." (I was born decades later than this.) I wish I'd said that to be clever or sarcastic, but I was speaking mostly out of utter confusion. I couldn't believe this person didn't know Hawaii was a state, and that I'd been a citizen all my life. But that was an important experience that taught me that not even my U.S. Passport could keep me safe from suspicion and ill treatment, from the sense that I somehow "don't belong here"—even though I've never lived in any other country.

I have sometimes been told, perhaps by people who are taking me for a Chinese immigrant, to "go home" or "go back to my own country." Again, I say, I have nowhere else to go. My home is in this country, and it has been for as long as I've been alive. And I find that brand of xenophobia particularly rich when it comes from the perspective of people who didn't respect the sovereignty of the Hawaiian nation. It makes me want to say, "No, you go home. Give the Hawaiian people back our kingdom. Give us self-determination. Give up the land you plundered."

I imagine, though I do not know for sure, that this bullshit happens to Native Americans from the continental United States, too. I bet they get told to "go home," and I bet they feel that particularly bitter burn in response as well. (And, for the record, that "go home" shit is an awful thing to say to anyone, it represents a piss-poor and cruel attitude, and anyone who says it should be ashamed of themselves, whether the target of the comment is an indigenous person or not. In no way do I mean to imply that it is "okay" to say this to actual immigrants. It is not. What I am highlighting here is that it is racist, cruel, and bitterly ironic to tell indigenous people to "go home.")

So there is some context that might help a person understand how I felt when I read this quote from U.S. Attorney General Jeff Sessions:

"I really am amazed that a judge sitting on an island in the Pacific can issue an order that stops the President of the United States from what appears to be clearly his statutory and Constitutional power."

I know I'm not the only one who's talked about how upsetting it is for a quote like this to come out of the U.S. Attorney General's mouth, but I feel it's important for me to say so as well, clearly and explicitly.

This quote brought me back to the incidents I've personally experienced, such as those I've described above. In a historical and political context, the statement is wrong and desperately unfair. (I'm focused here on the disparagement of Hawaii in particular, but I also want to note how wrong Jeff Sessions is about what's "clearly" the president's statutory and Constitutional power.)

For better or worse, Hawaii is an integral part of the union that makes up the United States. Pearl Harbor, anyone? My father, fighting in the Vietnam War wearing this nation's uniform. The heroism of former U.S. Senator Dan Inouye. The birthplace of former president Barack Obama. Patsy T. Mink, the first woman of color elected to Congress. Mazie Hirono, the first Asian-American woman in the U.S. Senate, and this nation's first elected Buddhist. I could go on and on.

What I felt when I first learned about the court ruling that prompted this statement was an intense sense of pride in my home. Hawaii is a diverse place, where people from many cultures must interact and work together, and it makes sense to me that a place like that would have an important message to send the nation as a whole about the harm that is done through bigotry and isolationism. Rather than disparaging the island in the Pacific where I was born, Jeff Sessions ought to be damn grateful that the United States gets to benefit from the perspective and wisdom that comes from that place.

And the sarcastic part of me says that if he thinks an island in the Pacific is so unimportant, he ought to ask himself why the United States government was so unwilling to give it back to its people after the illegal actions that overthrew its government in the first place...

Saturday, April 22, 2017

If You're Not At Porn Camp...

This weekend is Circlet Press's annual #porncamp, East Coast edition. The lighthearted name conceals what an intense and useful event it always is (though it is also hilariously funny, at least some of the time). Circlet's publisher, Cecelia Tan, is one of the smartest people I know, and she knows how to surround herself with similarly talented and intelligent individuals. The outcome of getting these people together is an essential compendium of information on the state of erotica.

Sadly, this year, I wasn't able to attend, though I'll be following #porncamp on Twitter (if you're interested in the business of erotica, I highly recommend you do the same). I'm looking forward to seeing what comes up this weekend.

This occasion also seems like a good time to mention the Circlet Press Patreon page. I'll let Cecelia explain the situation in her own words:


Circlet offers one of the most generous Patreon rewards packages I've seen. For example, for just a $2 pledge, you get 4 backlist books immediately. If you pony up $25 a month, you get access to Circlet's entire digital backlist, so you literally could read All The Books.

If this sort of thing interests you, I highly recommend checking it out. Not only do you get plenty of cool stuff, you help support a press that does exciting, sexy, essential work. Not only that, Cecilia's mentorship has meant a great deal to myself and many other erotica writers and editors.



I know I would never have edited a book like MakerSex without Circlet, and I'm so proud of what resulted from that project.

So, to summarize, check out #porncamp on Twitter. If you'd like to read some Circlet books (maybe including MakerSex?), this is a great weekend to take a look at the Patreon page as well.

<3 <3 <3

Friday, April 21, 2017

Some Upcoming Calls for Submissions

If you happen to be interested in writing erotica, I thought I'd share a few upcoming calls for submissions from Sexy Little Pages (and its nonfiction sibling Resonance Press). I've enjoyed working with Sexy Little Pages a lot, and really appreciate their kindness and transparency.

And for the record, I've learned to be a bit wary of publishers who only offer royalty payouts after one reaches a certain threshold. There is one publisher I won't name that has managed to never send me a single payment, despite my having written a number of stories for them... SLP does use the royalties and threshold system, but I've received payments several times, so sales are happening.

So here's what they've got right now:

Popping Your Cherry (Resonance Press) - nonfiction, about first times, 1,000-5,000 words, due June 1

Myths, Moons, and Mayhem (Sexy Little Pages) - fiction, m/m/m+, stories that "fit the Halloween spirit" (see call for more details), 4,000-6,000 words, due June 1

Corrupted (Sexy Little Pages) - fiction, any pairing/grouping, fresh and sexy takes on things "that women have been criticized for doing," 2,500-4,000 words, due May 2

Thursday, April 20, 2017

Nostalgia for Lovers Past

Every two weeks, I blog at Oh Get A Grip, along with nine other erotica writers. For the last couple of weeks, we've been writing about nostalgia. My piece went up today!

I wrote about nostalgia for old lovers, and how I've felt it sometimes for what was good, what was bad, and what never really got off the ground. For those of us who love the 90s, I also wrote about a Nine Inch Nails song that meant a lot to me when I was younger. Here's an excerpt:

Another time, the “something I can never have” was an honest relationship with the girl I loved. I’ve written about her here several times before. We slept together, but I didn’t know how to be with her, not for real. She “made this all go away” in the sense that I wanted her with a sort of mind-erasing lust that I didn’t know was possible before her. After the first time we slept together, I wrote in my journal, “I had real sex last night, for the first time.” Then I tore the pages out of the book, ripped them carefully into tiny pieces, and buried them in the trash can under cat litter so they could never be found. With her, that sense of awakening and sense of shame were so deeply tied together that I still feel it now. I still have her picture. I still weep when I look at it. She had a birthmark on the side of her neck, and the studio that took the picture tried to airbrush it away as if it were some sort of blemish, and I fucking hate them for it. She had thick, curly hair that I loved intensely—so much that, recently, on the occasion of running my hands through another woman’s thick, curly hair, I shivered with recognition and longing for a person and a time long gone. I was cruel, sometimes, to the girl I loved, and that was both because I thought I couldn’t have her and a means by which I made it impossible to have what we could have had together.

You can read the whole post here.

Wednesday, April 19, 2017

Sexy Little Patrons

I've worked with the excellent Sexy Little Pages a lot in the past year. Here's a quick sampling of the books they've put out that include my work:


Ticket to Ride


Love of the Game


Silence Is Golden


Goodbye Moderation: Lust


Inked

I'm very proud to work with them. Not only are the books gorgeously produced and full of sexy, high-quality writing, they're also committed to an inclusive, body-positive view of sexuality that I really believe in.

So I think they're well worth supporting. Of course, buying books is a great first step. Beyond that, though, you could consider becoming a Patron through Patreon. (May I point out that, not only will this help Sexy Little Pages spread the word about their books to a wider audience, it could also get you free copies of current releases, depending on the level of support you choose to offer).

Patreon is a really cool service that allows creative people a little stability in a time of great uncertainty. Please consider showing Sexy Little Pages some love that way. (You can support them for as little as $1 a month, but if you go up to $5 a month, you get access to free new releases...). If you'd like to check it out, the Patreon page is here.

Tuesday, March 7, 2017

I've Got Your Ticket to Ride

I've been remiss in sharing the news of a very sexy new book that includes my story, "Hey, Stranger." It's Ticket to Ride: Erotic Tales of Sexual Encounters, edited by Beverly Langland, published by the good people at Sexy Little Pages.

Did you want an excerpt of my story? I got you.

Here's a bit of "Hey, Stranger":

My thoughts raced as I listened to Cindy instruct the cab driver. What did she expect me to do? Would it be OK for me to just lean over and start kissing her?

My libido had plenty of ideas, but I was used to reining that in. Feeling awkward, I worked a hand along the back of the seat until I had an arm wrapped around her shoulders. Still quivering with nerves and anticipation, I dipped my head toward hers until I felt her hair against my cheek. She smelled so clean, so perfect—all those salon and spa scents that had never seemed to stick to me the way they did to other girls. I let my lips brush the top of her ear. “You good with this?”

She hummed way back in her throat and nodded. My body pulsed again, but my thoughts still had me panicked. I realized I didn’t know how she liked to be touched, didn’t know anything about her except the details that could be gleaned among a large group in a noisy bar.

I still wasn’t sure what she wanted with me, but being bold was working so I tried to keep it up. Grabbing hold of one of the fantasies I’d been having about her, I trailed my lips down to her earlobe, then to her jaw, then to the point of her chin. Slowly, a bit shocked at my own daring, I traveled up to her mouth, pausing just before initiating a kiss.

“I want you…” I admitted.

She smiled and took my hand, guiding it to the top of her thigh. She was wearing a short skirt, and I took the hint and slipped my fingertips under its hem. A bolder person might have reached toward her panties right away, but I was still having trouble believing this was happening.

“Sadly, there’s not much traffic,” she whispered, then laughed. “First time I’ve said that sentence. The point is, we probably won’t have more than a half hour before we get to the airport.” Her muscle twitched beneath my fingers as she spread her legs slightly.

***

Want to know more about the book?

Here's a description:

Delve into the minds of nine authors and let them take you for the ride of your life into the world of sex on public transport. Whether it’s trains, planes, cars, buses, trams or ferries, a combination of confined interiors and restricted spaces leads to erotic contact and hot and steamy sex.

Entice yourself with stories of:

Trains: The constant rhythm and clatter of wheels on rails, the side-to-side motion and a sense of entrapment between stations adds a touch of spice to a new encounter; and stealing pleasure on a crowded platform just heightens the excitement. Or travel back to the splendour of the steam age to follow a detective and the thief she’s set out to capture.

Planes: The confined space of the seats necessitates unconventional solutions to comforting a fidgeting woman, particularly when things aren’t quite as they seem.

Buses: A crowded tour bus and the woman who sits between two very different groups of musicians leads to a very different experience on the ‘dividing line’. Meanwhile, eavesdropping on someone else’s erotic stories via Bluetooth during a daily ride share leads to more than just words.

Whatever your fantasy, these erotic short stories will leave you eager to plan your next journey!

Want to buy it right now? You can do that here.

Thanks for reading! <3

Monday, February 13, 2017

WORD Is It's Galentine's Day!

Tonight from 6:30-8 pm I'll be participating in a "Galentine's Day" panel at WORD in Jersey City, as part of the Best Women's Erotica book tour. According to the description, "We'll chat about what makes a story sexy, the writing process, how to get published, and the cultural impact of writing stories that reflect a wide range of women's experiences." I'm looking forward to talking about these things!

Please join us if you're in the neighborhood! If you'd like to read the book, you can find it here.


Saturday, February 11, 2017

Bluestockings Is On My Map For Sure!

Tonight at 7 pm I'll be at Bluestockings in New York City, as part of the Best Women's Erotica book tour. This is one of my very favorite places to read and visit—they won me over the moment I saw they have a "postcolonial fiction" section, and I've never looked back.

I'll be reading from my story, "On Some Maps, But Not on Others." Please join us if you're in the neighborhood! If you'd like to read the book, you can find it here.


Thursday, February 9, 2017

Pour Some Sugar on Me

Just a quick note to say you can find me tonight from 6:30-8 pm at Sugar in Baltimore, as part of the Best Women's Erotica book tour. I'll be reading from my story, "On Some Maps, But Not on Others." Please join us if you're in the neighborhood! If you'd like to read the book, you can find it here.


Monday, January 23, 2017

Coming Soon: Journey to the Center of Desire

Hi, friends! I just signed a contract to be in J. Blackmore's new book from Circlet Press, Journey to the Center of Desire!

My story, Journey to the Disappearing Sea, imagines a much more active role for "little Gräuben," the love interest of the narrator of Verne's original Journey to the Center of the Earth. Gräuben deserves it, too. In the original, it's clear that she's brave and learned and every bit as deserving of adventure as Axl. You'll perhaps forgive me if I made her much more awesome than he was, and narrated in his voice, so he's the one who gets to tell you how cool she is?

I really love playing with classic works this way. My first story for J. Blackmore, "The Artist's Retreat," which was published in her collection, Whispers in Darkness: Lovecraftian Erotica, marks a turning point in my mental history of my own writing. It was studying Lovecraft, and imitating his style enough to sound authentic, that began to free me from the overly spare journalistic style I'd developed from years of writing articles. It gave me access to a tone I hadn't allowed myself for a long time, one that now feels essential to my voice.

I had an equally great time with Verne. And in case it's not clear by now, Ms. Blackmore has an enviable relationship with classic texts of all varieties. I'm not in these, but I can also recommend her takes on Austen and Carroll.

Friday, January 20, 2017

Reviews Are Coming In...

Best Women's Erotica of the Year, Volume Two, is starting to get reviews, so you can see what people are saying about the book if you're interested.

I'm particularly pleased at the many descriptors this review had to use to describe my story, "On Some Maps, But Not on Others": "M/F, F/F, S&M, voyeurism." And I'm glad to see love for T.C. Mill and other writers I admire as well.

In this review, I'm described as an author "familiar to erotica fans," which, hey, I guess so! Reminds me of the time, back when I was still fairly embarrassed about writing this stuff, that a woman asked me if my work was "anything she would have seen," and I replied, "Depends on how much erotica you read." I live for the moments I manage to be that witty.

Flippancy aside, I so appreciate everyone who takes the time to read my work and the work of the authors I share pages with. I don't like to comment on the opinions people express, because when I review stuff on Goodreads I like to pretend I'm talking just to other readers—I think that's who reviews are for. But it's a huge help to authors, editors, and publishers, too, when people leave reviews, because many of the websites that sell or recommend books are set up with algorithms that respond to things like quantity or quality of reviews. So if you've picked up or are planning to pick up this year's edition of Best Women's Erotica, please consider leaving a review once you read it. Even a sentence helps.

If you'd like to take a look at the book (or more of its reviews), you can find it here.

Wednesday, January 18, 2017

Best Women's Erotica Book Tour

Editor Extraordinaire Rachel Kramer Bussel has put together a four-stop book tour for Best Women's Erotica, and I'll be participating in all three of the East Coast stops! You can see the details in the image below.


My story in Best Women's Erotica is "On Some Maps, But Not on Others." It's about a lot of not knowing—not understanding gender, not knowing quite why what turns you on turns you on, and not being sure what fulfillment would look like or how to go after it. I love the story. It rips me open. I avoid direct autobiography in my work, but the themes are often really true to me, and this story expresses a lot of the uncertainty I struggle with. It also puts forth the idea, which I believe, that embracing those uncertainties can be hot.

I'm really excited to share this with people at Sugar, Bluestockings, and WORD, and I'm also really looking forward to hearing from the other authors! Please join us if you're in town (and West Coast people, there's a stop for you, too!).

In the meantime, if you'd like to check out the book, you can find it here.

Monday, January 16, 2017

2 Contracts I Signed Since the Last Time I Blogged

I'm still catching up on news from the dark of winter, when sunlight and blogging were scarce. Today, I offer glimpses of two contracts I signed since the last time I blogged:

Ticket to Ride
The good people at Sexy Little Pages are doing it again, this time with Beverly Langland's Ticket to Ride, a collection of erotica that takes place in and around various forms of transportation. I wrote my story, "Hey, Stranger," in the heat of a missed connection, and I got greedy with the forms of transportation I used: mine features a train, a plane, and a taxi.

Tournaments and Quests
I'll be working with Less Than Three press for the first time in their forthcoming anthology, Tournaments and Quests. My story, "To Rescue a Princess," brings together a bisexual knight, a lesbian princess, and a trainable dragon. I got to write about magic, duels, flying, hot sex, and expecting more.

Can't wait to share more about both of these projects with you!

Saturday, January 14, 2017

Tea and Books with Circlet

Today, I'm driving up to Boston to attend Circlet Press's Tea and Sexy Books Party at Arisia!

Circlet promises "tea to sip and sexy books for your perusal," and the good people there are not the type to disappoint. I'll likely wave around copies of the book I edited for Circlet recently: MakerSex: Erotic Stories of Geeks, Hackers, and DIY Culture.

Join us if you're in the neighborhood, or sip a mug of tea in our honor!

Friday, January 13, 2017

3 Books That Came Out Since the Last Time I Blogged

My friends, I've been quiet lately. The reasons are several—holidays, horror at recent world events, some difficult recent personal events, the release of the Legion expansion for World of Warcraft, you name it. But it's a new year, a new day, and a new chance to catch up on telling you what's going on with my writing work lately.

So here are three books containing my stories that came out since the last time I blogged:

Goodbye Moderation: Lust
My story: "More Than Nothing"

A taste of it:

“I want to lick you.”

“Baby, I know. Tell me something I don’t.”

“I want to do it until my jaw aches and my tongue stings from your juices.”

“Mmm. Keep talking.”

“I want to do it until my neck is screaming for me to move and my back is cramping. I want to do it until I can’t feel my feet from being on my knees and I think I’m going to pass out if I don’t get a free breath. I want to start now and do it until I’m half-hallucinating because I’m hungry and I need to sleep, and then I want to do it until my phone alarm goes off because it’s morning and I’m supposed to get ready for work, and then I want to keep going until I miss work and my phone is beeping because people are looking for me, but I’m still here with my face between your legs.”

She laughs. “Cute. Impossible, though. Besides, don’t you think I’d be tired, too?” Her expression is surprisingly gentle. “What have you actually done, baby?”

The blurb:

Life doesn't necessarily go to plan and sex certainly isn't always chocolate and roses. But it can be dark, dirty and sinfully arousing. Welcome to the world of Goodbye Moderation, a series that throws out the rulebook to explore the urges, perversions and frustrations of sex through the naughtiest and deadliest seven sins of the world. Lust is raw, carnal desire and in these eleven intense stories, you'll find that words have power and there's a beauty in frustration. You'll read of people adapting to change, for better or worse. That love appears in many forms and when the past and present collide, there's always collateral damage. Featuring stories by Charlie Powell, Anna Sky, Sienna Saint-Cyr, Annabeth Leong, Jillian Boyd, Leandra Vane, Zak Jane Keir, Lola Sparkles, CeCe Marsh, M Marie & Rachel Kincaid, Lust will surely leave you panting for more. If you're a fan of billionaire fantasies or happy ever afters, this certainly isn't the series for you. Over 18s only. Not suitable for work.

Buy the book here.

Best Women's Erotica of the Year, volume 2
My story: "On Some Maps, But Not on Others"

A taste of it:

My girlfriend began an assault that drove Alex into exquisite throes of pain and carried my confused but intense desires along with it. She slapped and pinched that exposed purple head, driving in fingernails, hitting it so hard it never stopped bouncing. Alex began making strange, high-pitched noises in the back of his throat.

"Yes," my girlfriend moaned, and hit him harder.

He shook his head when she began to flick near the slit at the tip of his cock, and she paused. "Are you telling me no, pretty Alex? Is this cock not my plaything after all?"

"It's yours," he gasped. I noticed that his hair was plastered to his head now, and a tear threatened to leak from the corner of one eye.

"Is it? What do you want, Alex? What are you ready for?"

There was a tense pause. I needed something else, and I hoped to the depths of my soul that Alex knew what it was, that he could give it to me.

My girlfriend rested the tip of one finger on his slit, and he choked with fear.

"Tell me with words, Alex. What do you want?"

"More," he cried finally, as she grinned, sharp and final, and began to tear the rope away. "Oh God, I want more." He made it sound like a confession, a horror, but as she gripped him viciously he began to shoot; thick, white ribbons spurting up onto his stomach, and I wanted to come with him so badly that my insides hurt.

The blurb:

Best Women's Erotica of the Year, Volume 2 gives us fierce female passion, timeless love, and lustful encounters that are guaranteed to fill you with utter delight. Edited by the award winning Rachel Kramer Bussel, these sexy stories about women on the prowl span the globe, traveling from Peru to the Bahamas and beyond in pursuit of pleasure. Learn why "Teacher Appreciation" is so special, what sex is like "At the End of the World," and explore some very explosive "Volcano Nights." These unforgettable erotic tales by the top authors in the genre as well as newcomers will arouse and thrill readers looking for a hot time between the pages.

Buy the book here.

Best Lesbian Erotica of the Year, volume 1
My story: "The Last Time"

A taste of it:

I choked on the humidity of her closed-in car and strained to see her face in the dim light from the restaurant’s sign. She kissed me as if the inside of my mouth contained water, air, light, and food, but her hands stayed outside of my clothes, and soon my body was hot and wet while my mind roiled with confusion.

She tore a button off my shirt, and then froze and began to apologize.

“Stop it,” I said, and tore another button off myself.

I grabbed her hand. Looking into her eyes as best I could in the darkness, I guided her fingers into the space made by the missing buttons, leading her to the edge of my bra. Thea gasped, and her fingers fluttered. I helped her even more, tugging my underwire upward to let my breasts spill out beneath. One of them landed in her hand.

“Christ,” Thea said, and I grinned, because I hoped that meant she hadn’t disappeared entirely into that fundamentalist church. I opened the rest of the shirt, and she pressed her face to my chest.

The blurb:

The Best Lesbian Erotica series is back and sexier than ever! Helmed by one of the best dual erotica writers and editors in the business, Best Lesbian Erotica of the Year, Volume 1 collects the very best stories of femme desire, passion, and hot, lustful sex in one incredible anthology. From tales of a lady's first time with another, to ones of experienced women taking charge in the bedroom, to steamy bar hookups or love-making stemmed from long-held adoration, this collection of F/F narratives has something for every reader.

Buy the book here.

Thursday, January 12, 2017

Truth in Fiction, Fiction in Truth

Every two weeks, I post at Oh Get a Grip, part of a set of ten erotic writers who together explore all sorts of topics. The topic right now is "True Stories." Many other people had written on the ways truth comes out in fiction, even if the story is made up. I decided to write on how fiction, and its techniques, come into truth, even when I'm doing my best to relay the story as it happened.

Here's a snip:

I can shift the true stories of my life in all sorts of ways. I could use them to tear myself down for sluttiness and risky behavior. I could use them to portray myself as an interesting, adventurous, experimental person. I’ve done both. And sometimes I wonder if there’s any really “true” way to see it all. It’s a true story, so there are true things about me in it. What those things add up to, though, is complicated, and, to some degree, chosen. I’m a writer, and it seems like I do get to write myself, depending on how I tell this and many other stories.

If you'd like to read the rest, you can do it here.