Email: rachelkramerbussel at


Lusty Lady

Watch my first and favorite book trailer for Spanked: Red-Cheeked Erotica. Get Spanked in print and ebook

Tuesday, July 31, 2007

Adventures in book covers: Dare

Dare by Abiola Abrams comes out in December! She read at In The Flesh and has done lots of movie and TV work. She describes the book as "chick lit meets Faust" and says:

It's the story of Maya Hope, a small town sociologist who goes undercover as a rapper as a social experiment and gets seduced by the temptations of the entertainment world. Oh, and all of this while she is dealing with her ex and searching for her one true love.

I love the cover!

Be the next Sugarbutch Star

Updated: Updates on this below, extended deadline, etc. Also an fyi to anyone sending emails/posts/press releases you want passed along, etc - put ALL your info in them. Like, everything you'd want someone to know. For us cut and pasters.

You know you want to. I know you want to. Budding erotica writers, you have one day (today!) to impress hottie Sinclair:

She wants sexy stories sent to aspiringstud at

From Sinclair:

also, I'm not sure how clear it is, but the idea is for someone to submit the bare-bones of the story & then I'll write it out. I didn't do a very good job with the call-for-entries - nor with the "press release" for the contest - so I'm extending the deadline another week because of all this new traffic.

Here's what I just wrote up on the blog, maybe this would be more clear?

1. You submit some of the elements of an erotic scenario (i.e., sex scene) to me, including: characters, setting, basic plot (what should we do to each other?) [NOTE! the deadline's been extended to AUGUST 7TH, due to my lack of PR planning]

2. I will pick my TOP FIVE favorite submissions and write out the full stories

3. Readers will vote on their favorite

4. One lucky favorite will get a special prize, from me (wink wink)

Here's some of the things you should probably include:

Characters: you & me? You & me and a third? You & your partner, written by me (could be a nice gift)? You & someone you've always wanted to fuck? [* Please do leave a description of the characters so I can write in at least a few details. Sending a photograph to me is another option.] Include the name you'd like your character(s) to have (especially if it's different from your own).

Setting: the easiest for me might be my bedroom, because I know what it looks like. But other ideas include: your bedroom, a bar, club, beach, hiking trip, sex club, office, elevator ... If you want it to be specific, be descriptive.

Plot: And what, pray tell, shall I do to you? Or what shall you do to me? Anything goes. If you've read some of my sex writing, you probably know what I like to do. You can, of course, leave it up to me, but the more specific you are, the more of a challenge it'll be for me to write it, and the more likely I will be to pick your story to flesh out.

Let me know to what extent I can make your identity public, as well - I can use your pseudonym, I can link to your blog, I can use a completely unrelated name.

photo by Bill Wadman

Like my own personal Autoadmit

To be filed under "I heart blogging." Sent at 2 am from the address below with the subject line "FYI rkb" - I think it speaks for itself, just made me laugh and thought it might amuse you too.


For the record, you're not pretty, clever or smart. You're not amusing. You're writing is tasteless and sophomoric. You're facts are flawed. Get over yourself; you're not worth it.

Monday, July 30, 2007

Guess who's excited about vaginas?

Rachel Kramer Bussel
Originally uploaded by lsmithnet
Me! T-shirt courtesy of the super-fabulous Bite My Cookie. I heart her.

See more of Larry Smith's BlogHer photos. And the first of the SMITH Mag writeups.


New documentary The Technology of Orgasm

I was lucky enough to get to screen the new documentary about Texas's "war on the clitoris" (law banning the ownership of six or more devices "designed to stimulate the genitals") The Technology of Orgasm with some other bloggers this weekend courtesy of

Here's some footage from Audacia Ray of Dell Williams (founder of sex toy shop Eve's Garden) and the wonderful Betty Dodson.

Sunday, July 29, 2007

Want to review my book Crossdressing: Erotic Stories?

Do you have a blog or site about crossdressing or gender issues? Or an erotic blog with a wide readership? If so and you'd be interested in reviewing my new book Crossdressing: Erotic Stories or interviewing me, email me at rachelkramerbussel at with your contact/site info and traffic, and what you'd want to do. I can't guarantee all requests but will do what I can - I'm especially looking for blogs/sites related to crossdressing, such as Sweatshop Sissy and Sissyville. The official pub date on Amazon is August 28th but I think books will be ready around mid-August and I'm truly excited. I already posted this info once but am reposting again in case you missed it, along with a teaser from my story "A Cute Idea."

Here's my introduction to my August anthology Crossdressing: Erotic Stories - hope it whets your appetite for more. As I said, rereading all the stories made me realize that this is one of my hottest books and should appeal not just to crossdressers and their fans but anyone who likes a good dirty story. So many of the pieces are about the tease, the allure, the hidden secrets, knowing and not knowing, and I think that makes them all the more interesting. Super high quality all around and I can't wait to see this one on shelves!

The Amazon copy reads:

From femmes who channel Marlene Dietrich in the sexiest of suits to men who love nothing more than the feel silky panties stretched tight against their skin, these characters boldly indulge their fantasies of being a girl — or a guy — for a night. Drag queens get dolled up for a night on the town, a dyke packs a special surprise beneath her dress, and a devoted husband puts his dress-up skills to the ultimate test in this seductive new collection.

And my intro followed by the TOC

Crossing Boundaries and Bending Genders

Crossdressing spans such a wide range of possibilities, erotic and otherwise, that the only thing we can safely say brings the mélange of its practitioners under one umbrella is that they dress (sometimes or all the time) in the clothing of another gender. In an age when gender is becoming increasingly fluid, deconstructed, questioned, and sometimes abandoned, we can begin to see the idea and reality of crossdressing in a new light.

This book focuses on the erotic pleasures of crossdressing, while also touching on the life-changing, mind-melting, earth-shifting experiences that can come from actively playing with one’s gender. For some characters, crossdressing means transgressing, transforming, subverting the rules to enter another body in order to enter another world, literally or figuratively. Sometimes it gives them permission to go where they’d be unwanted otherwise. For other characters, playing with their attire lets their minds create the fantasy creature they’ve always longed to be. It means acting, homecoming, freedom. Sometimes, it’s a fun, risqué adventure, a break from the ordinary, a chance to see what might happen if you slipped into a dress or suited up. Would you be the same person? Would you feel the same? Would you get turned on in the same way? These questions and more get tackled in Crossdressing, though the answers are as varied as we are.

When these characters don the clothes of another gender, or another gender role, they find not just their bodies but their minds altered in powerful ways. What was once forbidden is now acceptable⎯or maybe it’s still taboo but even hotter because of it. When they literally step into someone else’s shoes, their bodies, minds, and libidos can explore passions they might not dare voice otherwise. Whether it’s the bra, panties, and garter tucked away under the charcoal-gray business suit or the bound breasts flattened under a drag king’s snazzy attire, clothes, as more than one character here can attest, do “make the man”⎯or woman, though the person inside those clothes creates his or her power from within as well.

In Stephen Albrow’s “More Than Meets the Eye,” his businessman protagonist has a secret under his suit that’s his private treasure, until he chooses to share it: “My Brooks Brothers shirt is thick enough to cover up my white satin bra and garter belt, but not so thick that I can’t feel the garter belt’s lace trim as I run my fingertip over my abs. Just knowing this little bit of Suzy is there is enough to calm my nerves.” Part of his narrator’s delight is in fooling those around him. Yet revealing Suzy to her special lover is a bold thrill that yields untold rewards, and it’s this push-pull of discovery and secrecy, of flaunting and hiding, of male and female that makes the story come alive.

These stories are not just about crossing genders but about living with the duality of one within the other, mixed together, mingling—the experience of living as one changing how a person lives as the other. Ashley Laine, the sensual, seductive drag queen narrator of Tulsa Brown’s exquisitely rendered “Temporary,” reveals the fear that haunts her at being found out: “When his thick fingers began to creep under my panties, I edged away, afraid to ripple the surface of his fantasy.” Yet she proceeds, risking rejection for the joy of bringing that duality together into her erotic life. You can feel the shivers Rory delivers to her with the words “Oh, girl”—two simple but powerful words that encapsulate the crux of both Brown’s story and this collection as a whole. When these characters⎯men, women, and those in between or neither at all⎯are finally able to be recognized for their chosen selves, the thrill goes far beyond the sexual.

Yet sex, desire, lust, and longing are front and center throughout, even as more complex gender dynamics come into play. In Debra Hyde’s “Just Like a Boy,” we learn that simply turning oneself into a “boy” is not enough for her narrator. She longs to be the boy of her childhood dreams, not “an androgyne in boy’s clothes.” Yet her venture into male territory isn’t only for her but for her lover, Matthias, as well. Hyde draws out the tension in this dominant/submissive relationship, where power gets exerted in twisted, yet intriguing, ways.

The power of uniform gets invoked in Lisabet Sarai’s humorous “Beefeater,” in which a young British woman mocks family⎯and tradition⎯to dress in the garb of the Yeoman Warders guarding the Tower of London. The secrecy of her mission, combined with the defiant naughtiness of their endeavor, had me rooting for them with all the fervor of anyone who’s deliberately disobeyed, half-hoping to get punished.

Crossdressers themselves aren’t the only ones here with a tale to tell. In T. Hitman’s “Higher and Higher,” Pete pretends to be his naughty alter ego, Nate, when he hires Roni, a “dudette” who shows Pete a few tricks as she turns one, worshipping him in ways nobody else ever has. His internal dilemma, caught between sheer arousal and propriety, between who he thinks he should desire and who he actually does, gives us a peek into how those who lust after crossdressers of any variety also struggle to embrace their wants.

In Crossdressing, you’ll find men in panties, butches in dresses, girls looking like boys, drag queens, drag kings, and those who can’t be tidily summed up by their outer appearance. You’ll find men who want to be men, only prettier, and women who don’t have penis envy per se, but don’t always want to be the little lady. In short, you’ll find people across the sexual-orientation spectrum fucking with gender and gender roles⎯and simply fucking.

At one point, looking at herself in the mirror, Brown’s drag queen says, “Some people might call this a fantasy, but it was my deepest truth.” Here you get hot fantasy, fiction, and the kind of truth that really matters, the kind that gets under our skin, under our clothes, under our disguises to a place that speaks to us deep in our erotic souls. Whatever you’re wearing right now (or not), I hope you’ll join me on this tour across stages real and imagined, where the limits of gender-bending are in the eyes of the beholder.

Rachel Kramer Bussel
New York City
April 2007

Foreword by Veronica Vera
Introduction by Rachel Kramer Bussel

Temporary • Tulsa Brown
Just Like a Boy • Debra Hyde
Halloween • Helen Boyd
More Than Meets the Eye • Stephen Albrow
Tough Enough to Wear a Dress • Teresa Noelle Roberts
The Sweetheart of Sigma Queer • Simon Sheppard
Tori’s Secret • Andrea Miller
Like a Girl • Alison Tyler
Michelle, Ma Belle • Marcy Sheiner
Beefeater • Lisabet Sarai
Phone Fatale • Stan Kent
I Need a Man • Andrea Dale
A Cute Idea • Rachel Kramer Bussel
Higher and Higher • T. Hitman
Birthday Girl • Jason Rubis
The Princess on the Rock • Elspeth Potter
Down the Basement • Ryan Field
Some Things Never Change • Melinda Johnson

And a tiny teaser from my story "A Cute Idea" - there's plenty of hotness later on too:

by Rachel Kramer Bussel

It started out as a cute idea, inspired by my boyfriend Neil’s close-to-perfect ass. He was naked, his tall, slim body bending over our dresser, burrowing around to try to find the pair of boxers he was sure was buried deep inside, even though he hadn’t done his laundry in weeks, maybe months. We’d reached a détente where I left him alone about the state of his dirty clothes hamper as long as he eventually got, or bought, clothes that wouldn’t make me crinkle my nose in alarm. He’d done pretty well over the last few months, though he was nowhere near approximating my weekly clothes wash, and he simply laughed when he found my voluminous collection of sexy, lacy, very delicate, expensive panties, garters, stockings and bras drying in our bathroom.

As I looked at his ass, which is, inarguably, the sexiest part of his rock-hard body (though there was plenty of close competition from his solid chest, strong arms, which he uses to carry me when I’m too tired to walk to the car at night, and, of course, amazing cock), the part I loved to grab, fondle, squeeze, and sometimes spank, an idea came to me. I heard him muttering to himself and knew he was probably out of briefs and even out of boxers, which were a far second in his choice of intimate apparel. “Hey honey, I have an idea. Why don’t you put on a pair of my panties? Maybe those new pink ones, with the bows,” I said, remembering our devilishly fun time shopping for the sexy pair, which I’d modeled for him in the dressing room.

He’d snuck in when nobody was looking, then been so turned on he couldn’t stop staring at me. I had swapped the basic, boring thong I’d been wearing for a pink, lacy, frothy concoction, which featured little bows along the edges that were there purely for decoration. With my shaved, sleek pussy visible through its sheer mesh front (I’d put them on over my little cotton thong), he just had to come a little closer and lick me to orgasm. “I can’t resist you in those,” Neil had groaned before lunging for me. I giggled quietly but was getting aroused myself. He’d wanted to do it with the panties on, but I’d hissed, “We still have to pay for them!” and so I’d taken them off, he’d feasted on me, pulling aside the thin fabric of the thong to get at my sex, leaving me quaking as I clung to the walls of the booth while a saleswoman pounded on the door. “Miss, you’ve been in there a long time—we have a line.”

“Just a sec,” I’d called out, my voice going higher as his tongue plunged deeper. I came, spasming against him, then hurriedly put my clothes back on, walking out with a blush splashed across my cheeks. We’d sheepishly hurried out of the dressing room, and I’d bought that same pair in every color they offered, filling my already overstocked panty drawer to the brim. In fact, my undies took up so much room that some had to go in his drawer, but I knew Neil didn’t mind.

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I guess I've officially been replaced

Good to know. It was fun, Village Voice. Not that I've harbored any hopes that they'd want me back, though it might have been nice to get a reply from Tony Ortega to my email and sample column submissions, but that's okay. I think David Blum was right that my column had run its course.

But if you know anyone looking for writing about sex (that pays), let me know. If not, I'm working on a bunch of stuff and really do have my hands (and my brain) full. Someday if I can con a publisher into doing it, we might publish a collection of my columns. And if not, not. I do miss the money, but I do welcome the freedom to not feel guilty about, say, being single and not having sex. Not that it made me feel guilty per se, but I just felt like I was a crappy sex columnist when I wasn't "out there," and maybe I was. Bygones, right? I am hoping that this year brings new and much better things for me, and especially next year. Now just to buckle down and get to work, and to be patient.

Awesomest boots ever?

The Boots of a Maniac
Originally uploaded by 3dGorillaBob
I don't know whose feet or boots these are, but I stumbled across them from 3dGorillaBob (who took those topless and other photos of me back in October) and I am totally intrigued. Not even sure if I myself could wear these, but I'd certainly try!

Speaking of photos, it's almost August and almost time for me to take some more pics of my own with Anya Garrett. I'm plotting what to wear, and not wear...

Party for August 17th

August is clearly my month to say yes to everything. After that, I think I will be a little better about protecting my time because it's getting a little ridiculous and with a full-time job and freelance work way overdue, I just have to try to focus a little. That was my problem this weekend - trying to have fun, which I totally did, but with lots of stress and uncertainty lurking. I'm making headway with those but most days feel on the verge of a complete breakdown, and I guess it's a victory that I just push through. I guess maybe I should've gone to some of those time management seminars, but alas, I didn't. Will post more on BlogHer someday, or maybe not. It's funny because I was in part totally inspired by all the kickass bloggers I met, and also realized how over blogging I sometimes am. Or over this blog, over myself. I am sortof adrift right now and I know it's part because I overcommit, and procrastinate, and in part because I don't trust myself. I'm so petrified to put words down because I think they will suck that I don't, which is wrong, I know, but it's a really hard thing to get over. I am trying to find any way I can to get over this huge hump, to not be the utter failure I've so often let myself be. Too many projects to count, right down the drain, and sure, I've persevered and there are plenty that succeeded, but I'm the type who always remembers the failures. I don't want to be that loser girl I was in 1999 and so many other years, the one who ran away when things were hard, the one who will always lament not having a law degree, and feel inferior because of it. And I know, I know, it's not that I wish I were a lawyer, it's that I wish I hadn't been a quitter. So, onward...cause I have lots of smutty new projects I'm working on, and old ones.

In the meantime, I'm sitting in O'Hare, having forgone wandering around Chicago today (must lessen the baggage situation!) to hang out here in my brand-new, kick-ass Vagina Is For Lovers t-shirt courtesy of Bite My Cookie, just one of the amazing, incredibly women I met this weekend! So without further ado, mark your calendars for August 17th:

So, a party! Go to Sex in the Public Square for any more info you might want.

Join us to celebrate the launch of!

August 17, 7 pm - 10 pm

Sex in the Public Square is dedicated to expanding the space for public discussion of sexuality. Blending the techniques of blogging and social networking (think Blogger meets MySpace), Sex in the Public Square is a space on the Internet where members can explore which parts of sex are private, which parts are public, and what happens when private and public collide. We believe that sexuality is a fundamental component of human life, and that by excluding it from "polite conversation," we lose an important element of democratic participation.

With forums, blogs, reviews, resource lists, calls for action, and a nationwide calendar of events dedicated to sexualities of all genders, colors, and persuasions and with thousands of visitors and new contributors joining each week, we're ready to celebrate our "birth" and we want you to join us!

Help Keep Sex Out Of The Closet!

Readings and performances by:

Audacia Ray

Rachel Kramer Bussel

and more!

Plus screenings of film clips from Cinekink and old sex ed films from!

At Rapture Cafe, 200 Avenue A, NYC

The party is free and all are welcome. Invite your friends. And we hope you'll help us support Rapture by enjoying their coffees, teas, and bar offerings.

Saturday, July 28, 2007

Erotica panel August 23rd, Bluestockings

All my events are listed on the left hand side in my RSS calendar (updated more frequently than my site) but fyi, and Juicy Mangos was just released, it's highly recommended!

5) August 23, 7 pm

Are you an aspiring erotica writer? Come see successful, published erotica writers Rachel Kramer Bussel, Sofia Quintero, and Elisha Miranda for advice on how to write amazing love scenes and to break into the world of erotica writing. Michelle Herrera Mulligan, editor of brand-new erotica anthology Juicy Mangos, moderates.
Bluestockings Bookstore, Lower East Side of Manhattan at 172 Allen Street between Stanton and Rivington,


Friday, July 27, 2007

F is for "Fishnet Queen"

My story "Fishnet Queen" is in Alison Tyler's new anthology F is for Fetish, part of her awesome Erotic Alphabet series. (I also use all those teenage years of chess playing - but I was a virgin then! - as inspiration for "Check, Mate" in G is for Games.)

Here's the start of my story:

First thing I see are her legs, clad in the kind of stockings that make me hard just by thinking about them: fishnets. Her legs are long, and in her mini skirt, which rides up her thigh, I can see her pale skin augmented by the tightly woven black pattern that seems made just for her. She doesn’t just wear the fishnets, she owns them. I've seen women try to rock fishnets who simply can't pull them off, who wear them as if they were any other kind of stockings, tugged on hastily during a rushed morning, ripped in spots, slammed into sneakers, used and abused in the most careless manner possible.

There should be some kind of test when purchasing such delicate garments, I think, like an ID for cigarettes, but in all things fishnet, the test should be for class. I can always tell when a woman really cares about her fishnets, when she's the type who shakes them out before holding open the hole and sliding her foot into it, aware of every nuance of sensuality involved. I can tell when she makes sure that the seam up the back is perfectly even, forming a straight line right up to her ass, one I love to trace with my tongue, when she cares enough to buy the kind that have a seam. I can tell when the mere act of donning a pair of fishnets sends a rush of blood to her clit, when she morphs from gorgeous to goddess in the act, when she lets them transport her from ordinary to sex goddess. The rest of her outfit doesn’t really matter, nor how tall or short she is; a woman who wears fishnets like they’re her birthright is the kind I want to fuck, the kind whose fishnets I want to kiss and stroke and caress before ultimately peeling them down and plunging my cock inside her. Fishnet girls are all about foreplay, leaving me on the edge of arousal for as long as we both can stand it. That's the kind of woman I look for, who wears her fishnets not simply as artifice or armor but amour, who steps into her dominance one foot at a time.

Read the rest in F is for Fetish

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Cleavage with Cunning Minx

Cunning Minx and Rachel
Originally uploaded by viviane212
From last night's pre-BlogHer sex blogger dinner at Fizz. Yummy! With Cunning Minx

Photo by Viviane


Susan & Rachel at the breakfast
Originally uploaded by felsull
I am having a blast at BlogHer! Running into friends old and new, like Susan Chi (pictured here), and the photo was taken by Felicia Sullivan. Got to meet Cunning Minx of Poly Weekly and stay at her place last night, and the awesome Amber Rhea and today, Wendy McClure and Ariel Meadow Stallings and ran into Larry Smith, who I knew would be excited about the SMITH Museum of Glass Windows here at Navy Pier. The class at The Pleasure Chest went amazingly well too; only three students, but we wrote some really cool stuff. So yay Chicago and BlogHer! I also have to check out Cupcakes this weekend too.

Wednesday, July 25, 2007

Off to Chicago, Pleasure Chest, BlogHer, "vacation," He's on Top sellout

Had/have much I wanted to post but will have to wait until BlogHer or afterwards. I'm pulling an all nighter to catch my 6:10 am flight to Chicago, and somehow no matter how late I'm up, there's still way more to do. Trying not to feel like a complete loser for being so behind, but this will just be yet another "working vacation." Someday, someday, I will go to a writer's retreat. Really. Me, silent, cut off from my beloved internet and NYC. But that time is not now.

So don't expect replies to emails until Monday. And I'm at The Pleasure Chest on Thursday, July 26th at 7 teaching Erotica 101, then at BlogHer the rest of the weekend. Will also be hanging with my baby cousin Jack (6 months old!) and hopefully getting to visit with my favorite singer/songwriter Elizabeth Elmore, plus hang with a huge gang of lady sex bloggers and the like.

In happy news...I can now finally, finally announce that Seal Press will publish my awesome anthology Dirty Girls in the spring. I've got stories by Marilyn Jaye Lewis, Carol Queen, Sofia Quintero, and much, much more.

Also THANK YOU to everyone who made He's on Top such a success. Cleis, my publisher, just informed me that it's going into a 2nd printing! Woo-hoo! That special's still on through July 31st, so if you want a free book with your He's on Top or She's on Top, click on the link at the left for details. And in the meantime, if you read and enjoyed either one, why not leave a review on Amazon?

I will get to the rest of the stories in He's on Top later but for now, some teasers for those who haven't read it yet:

"Not Until Dawn"
by N.T. Morley

Tonight is the night you're going to make me wait all night. All night for your cock. All night for my come. All night for what I need, most of all, you inside me.

You take me out to a late movie, a foreign film everyone's been raving about. It's filled with sex, the steamy tale of multiple seductions. I don't see much of the movie, though, just the beautiful press of flesh as the European actors writhe together in bed. We sit in the back row of the near-empty theater and make out, my hand resting casually in your lap, stroking your hard cock through your pants. Your tongue explores my mouth, your teeth nipping at my lips. You slip your hand under my dress and finger-fuck me, first one finger, then two. But you don't let me come, even though I'm very close. You can tell when I'm close, and you make me wait, letting me cool down before you start to finger me again. I beg you to let me come, but you won't. "You're going to wait," you tell me. "You're going to wait all night."

"Incurable Romantic"
by Lisabet Sarai

She is, without a doubt, the perfect slave.

I should know. I've trained half a dozen slaves over the last twenty years, and played with perhaps half a hundred more.

In Minneapolis? you ask, incredulous. The law-abiding, church-going, vanilla-flavored heartland?

Why would I lie? I'm past the point where I have to prove myself. We have our own kinky little community here, invisible to those who don't want to see, obvious to the initiates who know the signs.

Like Ilsa's collar. If you weren't one of us, and you happened to notice it, you might think it's one of those choker necklaces so popular with the Britney Spears set. It's braided black leather, strung with tiny diamonds. You might expect a matching diamond stud piercing her navel.

"Seizing Monica"
by Debra Hyde

It’s simple, really. Her struggle makes me hard. Doesn’t matter what she’s doing, if Monica struggles, my dick reacts and I want to fuck her. Is something primal at work within me? Perhaps. I know my mind is civilized, always telling me that because she has consented to this, it’s alright. And, yes, my heart softens at the thought of her sanctioning what I do to her. But my dick doesn’t react like my heart or my mind. When Monica thrashes about, it rages stiff and mean.
I suppose there’s something primitive about my dominant urges. It’s like the mighty hunter, the human predator, suddenly catching the scent of a woman in heat. The smell of cunt, telling him in a language more ancient than words, that sex is at hand, that it’s worth throwing away the spear of the hunt to spear something else entirely. That a woman can squirm like quarry is all that the primitive part of my brain needs to see.

by Gwen Masters

Clarice didn't love him anymore.

The knowledge came to her like a calculus problem finally solved. Something that made no sense whatsoever until the answer was right there in black and white, and then of course that was the way it was, why didn't she see it before?

At the moment of revelation she was looking down at Max, watching him watch her, his hands playing across her breasts in the same way they had for the last twenty years. Suddenly he was only the man she was married to, the guy who paid the bills, the man who liked his steaks rare and his vodka neat. He wasn't the love of her life anymore.

Was it a sin to fuck someone she didn't love? She supposed it was. But she closed her eyes and made him come anyway.

She knew her performance was convincing. In all the time they had been married, he never noticed when she faked it.

by Donna George Storey

The first time you see her, she’s dancing with another guy. She’s a good dancer, which means what she’s basically doing is fucking out there on the dance floor. But she’s not fucking him. Her body is moving all on its own, her hips thrusting into the air, her back rippling like silk, sucking the music up through the floor. She is the music. You can’t take your eyes away from her ass and that bare band of skin above her jeans, shimmering with a fine film of sweat.

She turns and sees you staring.

You don’t believe in love at first sight or auras or telepathy or any of that hippie-dippy shit, but at that instant a voice⎯not yours, but a woman’s voice and how the hell that got inside your head you’ll never know⎯it whispers to you.


“In Control”
by M. Christian

We met in the dark corner of an Internet chatroom. SLUTSLAVE, a nubile profile full of in-the-know vernacular with damned good typing skills and MASTER017, my digital persona. We didn’t really meet there, of course, but that's where we first started to talk. The dance was slow, at first. I've heard other doms say that they don't like it slow, sedate, careful⎯they'd rather snap their fingers and have them drop to their knees. Me? I like the dance, the approach, the “chat” in chatroom. B

Besides, I've had a few of my own snaps, the eager young slaves with sparkles in their eyes, and not a clue between the ears. Give me someone who knows what they're getting into. It's better, after all, to be wanted by someone who wants the best, as
opposed to someone who just wants.

So we danced, we chatted, SLUTSLAVE and I⎯or at least that cyberspace mask I wore. Finally, after many a midnight typing, she complained with a sideways smile [;-)] that she was looking for something where more than just her wrists got a workout.

Old story, new venue: "Taking It All"

Cleansheets has published my lesbian strap-on story "Taking It All." It was originally published in Melcher's Aqua Erotica 2. Here's the beginning:

Kim was amazed at how suddenly everything shifted as soon as she stuck the cock down her pants.

She'd worn a strap-on before, but always in the context of sex, right before she was about to fuck someone, a hurried heat-of-the-moment action intimately tied to sticking her dick into some girl's eager hole. That she could possess a cock without another girl around was new and exciting: every girl she saw could be the one to discover Kim's new secret. This time, she wore her cock proudly, letting its weight mark and change her. She'd always wondered what it was like to have a cock, and now she knew; she felt strong and powerful, capable of conquering heroic tasks -- along with bedding the hottest girls around. She didn't analyze this feeling too much, simply took it for granted.

Read the whole story


Sweating and squatting at Crossfit

Originally uploaded by alizinha
This is a photo of me squatting with 135 pounds on my back at Crossfit. I'm actually up to 160 pounds but didn't want my photo taken while doing that lest it jinx me. Click through on alizinha to see more Crossfit pics and click on "Private Sessions at the Black Box" to see, well, my ass when I'm squatting. I'll preface that by saying I think it looks bigger than it is in those photos.

It's very surreal, though I've gotten used to it, to have multiple people observing me and my body so closely. I'm not self-conscious, it just takes some getting used to. They are able to see things, like how crookedly I stand (my hips are uneven) and tell me things to help me improve. I think, though, at first I was so grateful to go somewhere where I was less visible. Where there weren't a lot of people and I could just do my thing. But now I'm really grateful for all the feedback and the sense of community at Crossfit. I feel like while I have my awesome, awesome trainer Allison (who is available for private sessions and is really fucking amazing imo), I also have these other people who, for no other reason than that they care, offer suggestions and advice. Every little bit helps and it's often a matter of focusing on one small aspect, one little mantra or adjustment, that can make the difference. It's still weird to have people, in an instant, spotlight what I'm doing wrong, but it's also a good kind of challenge. To know that there is always and will always be room for improvement, that even the people I think are "perfect" have things they are working on, is truly helpful. I think this is our 13th week, or maybe our 12th, I've lost count, but even when I'm tired or don't feel like going, afterward I feel really powerful. Like if I've done nothing else that day, I've done Crossfit.

I'm even organizing a private little class for some of my favorite chicas! I was thinking about my birthday the other day, even though it's ages away (November 10th), and wondering how much I'll be able to lift and do by then. Then I realized that probably the most important lesson, from there and from life, is that I need to take things one day at a time. Often, one hour or moment at a time. Such a simple and valuable lesson but not always so easy to follow in practice. Yet, like most things that are hard, so worth it, and about so much more than drinking, or not.

Tuesday, July 24, 2007

Chicago Erotica 101 workshop on Thursday, BlogHer, free bondage story, "Obedience"

A reminder that I'm in Chicago July 26-29, July 26th teaching Erotica 101 at 7 pm at The Pleasure Chest, the rest of the weekend at BlogHer with the likes of Susie Bright, Amy Sedaris, Susan Mernit, Always Aroused Girl, Viviane, Deborah Siegel, Felicia Sullivan, Amber Rhea, and many more awesome bloggers. If you're going, on Friday from 1-1:30 I'll be selling and signing copies of He's on Top and She's on Top at the BlogHer bookstore.

Also, you have one more week (through July 31st) to get a FREE copy of Naughty Spanking Stories from A to Z 2 sent directly from me. U.S. addresses only. All you have to do is buy either He's on Top or She's on Top from, then forward the receipt to rachelkramerbussel at with "Amazon" in the subject line, and I will send out a book to you. I'll even sign it if you tell me who to make it out to. You can read stories from He's on Top and She's on Top here.

But since you may have already done that, here's a from my anthology Secret Slaves: Erotic Stories of Bondage. I wrote it under one of my pseudonyms, Tanya Turner, and there are 29 other super hot pansexual bondage stories in the book too:

by Tanya Turner

The most delicious moment always comes when John runs his fingertips along the back of my neck. That's really all it takes for me to go rigid with fearful delight, or delighted fear, I'm not really sure. Sometimes he'll just come up behind me when I'm washing the dishes or brushing my teeth and simply breathe on my neck, quietly, almost creepily, except that it's our ritual. It's his signal to me that whatever I'm doing stops, immediately. I turn off the sink or put down the toothbrush and immediately put my wrists behind me. "I'm ready, sir," I say, my voice sometimes trembling because no matter how much I think I'm ready, I'm always taken back to the beginning with him. That's saying a lot after a decade together.

I follow him when he bids me to turn around, my hands still behind my back, already locked into place by silent agreement. It's always clear to both of us that I am choosing to obey him, even though in the moment it feels like I'd take death by fire over anything else. That choice seems so predetermined, yet it makes me feel even more subservient to know that were I given any other option, I'd always choose to do his bidding. Sometimes I find myself placing my hands in front of or behind me, arms together, my face gone soft with the need to be told what to do, directed, schooled, because he's the perfect teacher.

We don't speak and the silence is slightly eerie. I long to tell him how wet I am, how my entire body, not just my pussy, aches for him as I watch his strong back marching ahead of me, leading to the bedroom. I long to whimper, to run up and put my arms around him, or at least kiss him on the back of his sweaty neck, but I keep them in place. We arrive, and he points to the huge cross stationed none-too-subtly in the corner of our massive bedroom, one of the added bonuses of living in a gargantuan suburban home. I practically float over to it, settling against its familiar wooden contours, my arms up above my head, my legs spread, my body conforming to the X of its shape as if I spent every day like this. Just feeling the wood against my arms and legs, the thin layer of my pubic hair flattened against its front, my ass, as well as my true nature, exposed, is enough to make me shiver. I clamp my lips together, knowing no sound is expected of me. The ropes are softened from washing and use, and also seem to fill a groove in my skin, though John makes sure not to be too rough. There are never marks after a day or two, though sometimes I wish there could be, wish I could gently rub my wrist or lean down and massage my ankle, having my coworkers feel sorry for my carpal tunnel or poor heeled feet, when really I'd be reliving these moments that make the drudgery of the corporate workday more than worth it.

His fingers as he fastens the ropes are agile, steady, practiced. He can get me all trussed up in under two minutes, the knots sturdy and simple. "Lift," he says, his words economical as I wiggle one ankle and then the next, confirming that I cannot escape—I'd be heartbroken if I could. Before he gets to my arms, he trails his fingertips lightly up the backs of my thighs until he reaches my pussy, where he even more lightly skims a lone finger along my sex. I long to sink my hips down, jam his finger deep inside me, show him what I really want, but I know that would get me the exact opposite. Instead I hold still, my insides churning, my outsides for once not betraying me. If you saw me from the back, you might think I was asleep, but up close, I am trembling imperceptibly. I bite my lip, my teeth grinding against the plump pink skin, as he rises, pressing his pajama-clad body against me so I can feel his erection as he leans forward to tie my wrists to the wood. These he doesn't do as tightly, and he makes sure I know that he wants this just as much as I do. When he's done, he weaves his strong fingers through my hair, giving a tug that sends tears of arousal to my eyes and my head flying back. "You'll be silent, I'm sure, Lucy," he says, his eyes meeting mine upside down. I swallow heavily, sure he can see the movement in my neck, before he pushes my head back into place.

He digs his nails into the skin at my nape, then scrapes them down my back. When he reaches my ass, he grabs a handful of flesh, hard, squeezing, pinching. It hurts, and for a moment, that's all it does. My body absorbs the pain, my wrists, of their own accord, tugging against their bonds. Every shiver I make seems to reverberate through my body, my legs rippling against the ropes, the flashes of lightning traveling down and then back up until they center in my cunt. He lets go of my ass and even though it hurt, I miss it. His gaze burns into me, and I hope my ass is pretty enough, firm enough, pleasant enough for him. It always is, yet there's still that chance that this time it will fail to pass muster, will soundly disappoint.

He walks away, and instead of my body sagging with relief against the wood, I stand straighter, as much as that can be done when shackled to a large wooden X. My ears perk up while my eyes and lips stay shut, as I wait for his return. Even though I'm listening, I actually don't hear him until the loud whooshing of the flogger flying through the air startles me back into the present. Moments later, it's raining down against my back. I'm much more of an ass girl, to tell you the truth—a few solid smacks against my behind and I'm quivering, trembling, in a word—gone. But my back takes more getting used to. The flogger doesn't hurt so much as pound into me, its impact magnified by the soft suede strands as they all thud against me at once. His practiced arm whacks my shoulders, and I feel the heat against my back before it travels lower. My limbs strain against their bonds, and every time I don't escape, every time the delicious rope reminds me of my place in our world, my pussy gets a little tighter and wetter.

The back is just a warmup for what I consider The Real Thing. While the flogger can feel soothing against my back, like a kinky deep tissue massage, on my ass, John's anything but gentle. He rears his hand back and lets fly, the suede strips slamming against one cheek and then the next. My body gets pushed against the wood, and I revel in the impact, the force, the feeling of the flogger hitting my skin but then going deeper, its dual impact walloping me through and through. In this process, we meld into one, joining forces as he lands each blow as if offering me a bit of himself. It's beyond the ache for his cock inside me, beyond the rush of pain and heat, beyond the ropes chaining me to the wood. The details stop mattering the more I skid against my restraints, the more I succumb utterly and fully to these urges that take me higher and higher even as they literally keep me securely in place, for what they are really doing is letting me take flight. If you've never truly been tied up, never been fastened snugly like a baby, grounded so all you have left is your own desire, you may not understand the sheer bubbly joy his beating brings me. I am at his mercy, should he choose to pause or stop, choose to lance me along the backs of my legs, or turn me around and beat my breasts, making pinpricks of blood form along my chest. I am his and only his, the only one I'll let strap me down like this, the only one who can do it and give me such euphoria, because I know he knows precisely what it means when I do.

He waits until I am frantic, on fire, going mad, until I could both stay in this position forever and am clawing at the wood, giving up on my manicure to dig my nails into anything they can reach—the X, the rope, my skin, in order to reach down and touch my most sacred place. Only when I am that frantic, that far gone, does he relent. The blows get softer, maddeningly teasing as the suede lightly brushes me, like he's dusting me off, polishing my pink skin. Then he drops it on the floor, where it lands with a solid thud.

This is when, were we in another sort of position or location, he'd tell me to spread my legs—but they already are, wider than I normally make them. His fingers find what they are seeking, then tap against my open pussy lips. I am exposed, my cunt his for the taking as he taps away, his fingers thudding harder and harder against my sex until I almost want to cry. He switches hands, using his left for my pussy and his right to smack my ass, the noises and sensations tipping me over the edge. I've given up clawing, struggling, moving, and just wait for him to do whatever he's going to do to me, my body ready to please.

And because he's not a cruel master but a kind one, he gives me what I crave the most—himself. He unties me but repositions me bent over the bed, my arms fastened now with fuzzy pink cuffs, way too girlie for the kinds of things we've just been doing, but they work nonetheless. My legs are free to move where they will, but all I want to do is spread them like before, and I do, offering myself fully to his cock, which plunges into my dripping hole. My wrists are warm against the fur, but not as warm as my insides as his hot spear burns me until I'm entirely molten, melting, mush. I'm his, sinking and sagging against him, my pussy aflame with the buzz of anticipation, the buzz of waiting, the buzz of being tied up and waiting for him to take me, my very own obedience training, and I've somehow been awarded the greatest prize of all. Lucky me, I think as I come, exploding against him, the cuffs, the bed, already looking forward to doing it all over again.

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Monday, July 23, 2007

"How much confession can one read before becoming uncomfortably numb?"

Someone asked this in the comments on Ed Champion's blog. I don't profess to know the answer, believe me. And I think some of this goes to the internal/external validation issue I was talking about below, because I was about to refer to my essay "Where Sluts Fear to Tread" (partly up on YouTube) in the forthcoming Desire: Women Write About Wanting and say, well, I got paid for that, so some people do want to read it. But is that really the right measure? Of course not! Editors and publishing houses can make mistakes, too. To me, the measure of that essay, what sets it apart from being just about blowjobs or sex, is the questions it brings up, ones that, for me, far transcend that relationship. It's reading it at Grace Reading Series and having people call it "spiritual." It's that it resonates for me on so many levels, ones that travel into other relationships. It's exploring the quandary of feeling "too slutty" in a relationship, and my uncertainty about how to handle that.

I explore sex in fiction and non-fiction, and I guess overall my feeling is that I know it's not the type of material for everyone. I am actually shocked when people do want to read it, and that, again, probably goes to my own uncertainties. But I've been trying really, really hard of late to check myself from having to "apologize" or downplay that, yes, I do, write about sex. It's easy as pie (or cupcakes) to fall into the trap of seeing writing about sex as lesser: less valuable, less challenging, less worthwhile. Of seeing all writing about sex as simply exhibitionistic without any greater purpose. I do it all the time and am learning to rethink those assumptions, not just for peace of mind about what I do, but because it makes the writing that much harder if you only half believe in its worth.

My conundrum in talking about this is that I don't believe there inherently should be a greater purpose. I'm sickened by the current way we define obscenity legally, that every other value (scientific, artistic) comes first, that "prurient" is such an epithet. There's nothing wrong with prurient, people, and clearly, material that gets people aroused is popular for a reason. I obviously support and produce writing that is designed simply to arouse people. But that's more in the fiction realm. In non-fiction, I think it's possibly to simply write about "I did this, and I did this," but I think it's also possible to go deeper. It's why out of all the anthologies the ones I'm most proud of are Russ Kick's Everything You Know About Sex is Wrong and Desire. It's why I'm looking forward to reading Pepper Schwartz's Prime (see interesting Seattle Post-Intelligencer review: "There is serious purpose behind her revelations. "Prime" delivers copious titillation, but it also provides insight, especially for women in their 50s who are beginning to suffer the societal invisibility of advancing years."). I also think the whole controversy over Abby Lee was in part because she doesn't, ultimately, have only a one track mind. She has a life, like we all do, and while I wholeheartedly support the sex blogosphere, I think it's unrealistic to assume, or perhaps promulgate the idea that, we don't have a life outside of sex. I'm not saying we all have to share the rest of that life, though I am saying that I wouldn't feel comfortable writing about my sex life without also writing about other parts of my life, but to my mind her outing only serves to create a more well-rounded picture of who she is (not to mention a warning to anyone that, well, anonymity is fleeting and can always be revealed). Or, for example, I wrote about a sexual encounter wtih Betty Dodson's much-younger boyfriend, and followed it up with an interview with Dodson. It was about the sex (part 1), but also the politics and the polyamory (part 2).

Ultimately, though, we choose what to read and not read. That's the great thing about having a blog, to me: the people who want to read your writing find you, the ones who don't, read one of the umpteen million other blogs. Because one person's "uncomfortably numb" is another's "insatiably curious." Me, I am rereading Jill Nagle's Whores and Other Feminists, because my perspectives have shifted since the first time I read it. Because I think it's one of the best feminist books ever put out. Because there's so much there. Because, like most everyone else I read, I can interlace it with reading Nagle's blog and read about her child and parenting, which is what I'm largely interested in these days. I think there is, indeed, a surplus of sexual writing, but I also think it's clearly something we want to "confess" about. Not all of us, certainly, but there continues to be so much confusion about sex, over what is "reasonable" (see Steinbuch v. Cutler), over what is "normal," over what, even "sex" is (see Our Monica, Ourselves). I certainly don't profess to have the answers, which is perhaps why I no longer write a sex column, but I can bring up questions. Ultimately, though, I'm no Pepper Schwartz or whoever. I don't want that burden of being responsible for "helping" anyone but myself when it comes to figuring all this out. But I do find the sharing cathartic. I find it heartening and that I meet people who've gone though similar things, and those discussions are ones I value tremendously. Not the horny, annoying MySpace people who want to assume I'm just some 24/7 slut, which couldn't be further from the truth (and even if it was I wouldn't be interested in some faceless stranger on the internet, though plenty of people are, and that's totally cool), but real, actual, interesting, intelligent people, for whom sex is one part of their lives, but a part worth exploring.

For a taste of what I mean, visit the blog and the links at Viviane's Sex (probably NSFW).

I also highly recommend the podcast Polyamory Weekly.

To me, Heather Corinna's blog, where she has shared everything from erotic photos of herself to very revealing personal details, about sex and other aspects of her life, is a very welcome counterpart to the rest of her work.

And, of course, Susie Bright, who I look forward to hearing at BlogHer this weekend

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Friday, July 20, 2007

"Sometimes language itself is a weapon." -- Mary Pipher, or Quoted in the LA Times

When I was posing topless, in my leopard print panties on my friend’s red couch for Arlene Textaqueen's forthcoming deck of playing cards, she asked me to pick a quote from the book I was reading. After a few so-so options, I chose; “Sometimes language itself is a weapon.” (Mary Pipher, Writing to Change the World) Indeed.

I’m really honored to be included in this article by Ed Champion in the L.A. Times called “Blogging: a crash course on introspection.” Do check it out, especially the last bit on Virginia Woolf. Wow! As for my thoughts (and fyi, those were culled from an interview of about an hour and a half), they’re complicated and I’m too tired to properly address all of it, but I know that to some people, writing about your personal life will never make sense. It’s personal, end of story. I’ve always been a writer, a sharer, a connector, and yet I will also acknowledge that as much as I’d like to think I’m writing for and to my close inner circle of friends, as well as people not as close but who I know understand the impulse, I’m in fact writing this blog for anyone who may be reading, whether they stumbled across it or not. I have definitely toned down what I share because it’s so hard to paint a full picture, and because there are plenty of things that are private, they just aren’t necessarily the ones that are private for other people. I’m realizing that there are intimacies that can be captured in fiction, perhaps, better, but I don’t want to use that as a copout. I do believe in the cathartic power of words, and there’s a mystery to it, a way that I don’t always know what will happen if I write any given thing, but only that I feel compelled to. And yet even when I do write about, say, relationships, there are always parts of them that are private, that maybe don’t even exist for the other person. That are mine alone. In the extremely long process of getting over my last relationship, I’ve seen that. Writing helps and helped, certainly, but it can’t do everything. It can’t erase memories or mend a broken heart, and yet often, for me, they are the only thing I have to cling to.

For me, blogging means the freedom to not be constrained by word counts or structure or topic. It’s a very primal “this is my blog and my space to say whatever the fuck I want.” But it’s also a way to encompass so much. There are the links to the professional writing, but also links to who I read, which may give a clue about who I am. For me the most challenging part of all of this, that former life as a sex columnist, this one as a blogger and person trying to figure out what direction her life is going in, is to stay true to myself while being open as well. I think “open” can easily lead to listening to the often uninformed opinions of this person and that person. It can be confusing, but I’m also honored to be part of so many wonderful scenes and groups and communities here that inspire me every single day. To have people I wildly respect and admire welcome me into their circles, whether it’s Crossfit or the comics crowd or lit bloggers or trivia nerds, is vital to me.

This goes back to someone I told someone I care about recently, that’s clawed at my mind ever since. I wrote that “at the end of the day what I or anyone else thinks of you, really doesn't matter compared to what you think of yourself.” The more I thought about that statement, the more I realized that I’d really told a half-truth, both to him and to myself. I need to make a distinction there between the “anyone else” of anonymous strangers, and the “anyone else” of the people who know and care about us. I care desperately, probably way too much, about what those people I referenced above think of me. Not what they think superficially, but that they trust me and know that my heart is in the right place. Not a one-size-fits-all morality per se, but a baseline of empathy of community, of looking outside yourself. I realized it was a lie when my opinion about this person plummeted, even moreso than it already had, when I found out the high esteem I thought he was held in was a façade as well. To me, your friends, your community, who you surround yourself with, say a great deal about who you are. I love meeting new people and bringing them into these various circles. I loved spending last Saturday afternoon chilling and gossiping with Nichelle, because we both care about the same things, from silly news to the deeper things. I'm not trying to say I'm any more complex than anyone else; I think we're all complex, and all simple on some level too. Me, I'm much more PG than I am NSFW, and yet by dint of what I do for a living, most of what you'll stumble across on line is about matters sexual. But talk to me at a party and I'll quiz you about your babies or your workout routine or your creative endeavors. I'll ask you about your bad dates and favorite cupcakes. Sure, Martha and I probably horrified some of the Etsy folks with our sex talk, but I don't think that's a me thing, it's a comfort with the topic, amongst friends. And as much as sometimes I wish I had gone about all of this with a pseudonym, I also don't take any of it too seriously. I don't want to be "Rachel Kramer Bussel" all the time, whoever people think she is. It's not a pen name, but it is, in its way, a persona. Not a deliberate out and out alter ego, but one side of me that comes out best in writing. In person, especially when it comes to sex and dating, I can be aggressive, but I'm more likely to be shy until I know what the other person is thinking. I'm skittish and just as confused as anyone else about all of this.

I guess the conundrum when it comes to blogging or any public writing is that it’s more of the anonymous “anyone else”s who you’re opening yourself up to. Sure, their opinions don’t have the potential to get to me as deeply as people I respect, but I read pretty much everything written about me, and much as I’d like to take a lesson from my friend Jessica Cutler, they stay with me. But the risk is worth it, for the times when the anonymous become part of that circle. I’m excited to attend BlogHer next weekend to meet other people who think about these issues, other women who get that need to confess, but also have more going on than what’s in front of a computer screen.

I’ve mainly given up trying to micromanage what anyone else thinks of me, but am continually buoyed by the people who enter my life and instantly seem like they were there all along. You know who you are (I hope).

And one more thing: the opening graf in Ed’s piece has William H. Gass castigating the autobiographer for "think[ing] of himself as having led a life so important it needs celebration, and of himself as sufficiently skilled at rendering as to render it rightly." I would venture to say that for me it’s the very opposite. It’s in fact the uncertainty about whether any of what I go through is worthwhile, the uncertainty and confusion and doubt and all of those kinds of feelings, that make me need to sort them out in writing. Yes, in some ways, I’m hoping someone somewhere will have something perhaps comforting to say, but that’s too literal. I don’t mean it in a “there, there, everything will be okay sense.” I mean that someone will have gone through exactly what I have, and will let me know you do come out the other side. During the interview, I referenced Caroline Knapp, who I just think had such brilliant insights and quite expertly took her personal details and mapped them onto the larger world of women’s lives. I’ll be posting soon about Mary Pipher’s wonderful book Writing to Change the World, but will say for now that her book inspired me at a time when I’ve been feeling like my writing is worthless, rote, boring, inconsequential. When I’ve been feeling like what I “really want” to do is not what I am doing. But I think Pipher’s concept of “changing the world” works because it’s so expansive. Sometimes, that world is us, sometimes, maybe it just means realizing you can do something you didn’t think you were capable of. I don’t think my erotica is “changing the world,” and I often pooh-pooh that genre to myself; oh, this is easy, silly, vapid. Erotic, but what else is it? And I was reading this gay male story I wrote called “Live From New York,” which is the first story in Richard Labonte’s forthcoming anthology Where the Boys Are, and realized that what else it is is evocative, arousing, insightful. And that if I don’t feel there’s an “else” to my writing, it’s not any genre or style’s fault, but mine. I need to put that “else” in there, to make it happen, to draw it out of myself. And that when I can do that, I’m at peace in a way that only writing can bring. And I guess that’s the kind of “introspection,” however long-winded it may be, that this blog, at least, is for.

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Hear me get spanked by Robin Byrd on her podcast!

Yes, I said hear. On Robin Byrd's Speaking of Sex podcast, where she's also interviewed people like Michael Musto, Barbara Carrellas, Randy Jones, and my awesome friend Ellen Friedrichs. (if you want to watch me get spanked go to this Fleshbot party video). This was a really special interview. I wasn't nervous exactly, but I guess I was a little uncertain at first, but Robin was SO friendly and cool and smart and funny that I just relaxed. She asked if I wanted her to spank me and I really thought she was kidding, so I laughed it off, as you'll hear. When she asked again, I knew she was serious, and all of a sudden, I really did want her to spank me (I very rarely get spanked these days, in fact, I think before her it was January, and that one night and January, Robin and the party are the only times this year. Dry spell, people, total dry spell.) It's funny because it was sensual and sexy in its way, and even though of course we were doing the podcast, I really felt a connection with her, not in a mad I-want-to-rip-your-clothes-off way, but just in a, "She's really good at and really into spanking me at this very moment" way. Perhaps hard to explain, but it was fun and I left all flushed and probably blushing.

There was something so awesomely spontaneous about it, and because it was audio only, I felt much safer. I never would've done that on camera, and if I'd known we were gonna do it, I'd have worn prettier panties (don't remember which I was wearing, but not my finest). But one can't always be preapred for a spanking, or at least, overly prepared. It was just a really crazy, wild, fun, hot moment that made me appreciate the sometimes bizarreness of my life, as well as the ability to have those connections, and go with them.

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Feminist filmmaker interviews by me

Feministing interview with Sarah Schenck, Feminist Filmmaker, Director, Slippery Slope, a comedy about feminism and porn

Two part interview with Jennifer Fox, Director, Flying: Confessions of a Free Woman

Part 1

Part 2

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I'm impressed with how much people liked and commented on the bald=hot post. Yay bald guys, who I now seem to notice everywhere! That sight certainly brightens my day, even though I have to resist the urge to reach out and stroke their heads.

Sugasm #88

Mon 16th Jul, 07

The best of this week’s blogs by the bloggers who blog them. Highlighting the top 3 posts as chosen by Sugasm participants. Want in Sugasm #89? Submit a link to your best post of the week using this form. Participants, repost the link list within a week and you’re all set.

This Week’s Picks

Kinky To Vanilla

“Now, each time we play with others, it’s a gift that further cements our closeness and shows us the value of our love.”

One For The Guys

“Get into the habit of building your sexual pleasure and indulging in it fully.”

When A Client Dies-Part 2

“As I drank my morning coffee I googled his name and “obit”. Up popped his obituary.”

Mr. Sugasm Himself

A Porn Store Clerk Speaks

Editor’s Choice

Love at First Sight

More Sugasm

Join the Sugasm

See also: Fleshbot’s Sex Blog Roundup each Tuesday and Friday.

(Sugasm participants should re-post all the links above. The following links may be excluded as long as you include all the above links.)

BDSM & Fetish

Bombshell (The Big News)

A Cock and a Smile

Dreaming of suburban spankings

Featured Fetish - Ropes (Shibari, Bondage, Ropework)

Fooling around

The Gain, pt. 4 - The Exchange

How I Went To Prom And Soiled The Pretty Pretty Dress I Found In The 2007 ‘Cosmo Girl Prom’

Ms160 judges a Princess competition….

My (Af)fair Lady

Naughty webcam fun with Griz and good girl

The Panty Controversy

Party Girl

Power Exchange (will I or won’t I?) San Francisco, part 6

Slutty sight

Summer School

When Daddy Gets Home Tonight

Sex Work

Clients Say the Darndest Things

Thoughts on Sex and Relationships

Bald = hot

Kinky Vanilla

On abandon

The Origins of Monogamy and Jealous

Pretendy Sex

Seduction - from the eyes of my spouse

Three years

Sex News & Reviews

Polyamorously Perverse, Gracie’s Been Sleeping In Your Blog

Slip of a Girl Right Hand Ring Bling Contest

NSFW Pics, Videos & Audio

The Best A Woman Can Get

Chantelle Fontain Nude

Gemma Atkinson

Half-Nekkid and Supporting the Troops

Keana | Exhibitionist (Hegre Art)

Last night

More Lindsay Lohan Bikini Pictures

Tuesday’s Tits for the Troops

WebMistress Feature Gallery: Party Girl

Sex Advice

Closed Due To Flooding?

Erotic Writing and Experiences

After Midnight


The Driving Urge

Fantasy Forth! “Twin Celebration”

First kiss

In which sinclair gets off

The Love of Sea Glass

Palm Springs …. Friday Finale!

Story: The Birthday Party

Test Your Strength

Watching you

Virgin Princess Award Winner courtesy of Mistress 160’s Abode.


Adventures in book covers: Read Responsibly

There's a new Unshelved collection that is sure to be irresistible (the free daily webcomic follows the gang at Mallville Public Library, with their "ringleader," if you can call him that, or maybe, "main character," Dewey, and a host of wacky librarians and patrons). They've also got t-shirts with book-loving sayings such as "Will Work for Books" and "Guess What I'm Reading." I'm a fan.

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Thursday, July 19, 2007

Cookie Pizza!

Cookie Pizza design 7
Originally uploaded by cookiejartx
Houston's The Cookie Jar Bakery continues to wow me with its photos. I'm usually scoping out cupcake photos for Cupcakes Take the Cake, but they have so many really creative designs of all kinds. Here are more pic from their cookie pizza party.

Boxing match promo with Jonathan "The Herring Wonder" Ames

I told you about the July 24th Jonathan Ames/Craig Davidson boxing match at Gleason's, to be emceed by Ed Champion. Now you can watch a short promo video starring Jonathan "The Herring Wonder" Ames.

Heads up: August 15, September 1920 In The Fleshes, and Juicy Mangos

I'm very excited for the sexy, summery lineup on August 15th. And, Michelle Mulligan's hot new erotica anthology, Juicy Mangos, which you'll be hearing from then, is out now! Scroll down to read a little more about it, or visit the Juicy Mangos blog to read some excerpts. Yummy!

(B/D to Grand, J/M/Z to Bowery, F to Delancey,
Admission: Free
Happy Ending Lounge: 212-334-9676

From some very juicy mangos to sex on Fire Island and more, August's In The Flesh dives into the bedroom and beyond with steamy stories from some of New York's naughtiest (plus a visiting guest from Minneapolis). Featuring John Blesso (Sharehouse Confidential), Perry Brass (Carnal Sacraments), Catherine Lundoff (Crave), Elisha Miranda (The Sista Hood), and Michelle Herrera Mulligan (Juicy Mangos). Hosted by erotic writer and editor Rachel Kramer Bussel (He's on Top, She's on Top, Caught Looking). Free candy and cupcakes will be served and authors books will be available for sale.

In the Flesh is a monthly reading series hosted at the appropriately named Happy Ending Lounge, and features the city's best erotic writers sharing stories to get you hot and bothered, hosted and curated by acclaimed erotic writer and editor Rachel Kramer Bussel. From erotic poetry to down and dirty smut, these authors get naked on the page and will make you lust after them and their words. Since its debut in October 2005, In the Flesh has featured such authors as Laura Antoniou, Andy Mo Beasley, Lily Burana, Jessica Cutler, Stephen Elliott, Valerie Frankel, Polly Frost, Gael Greene, Andy Horwitz, Debra Hyde, Maxim Jakubowski, Emily Scarlet Kramer of CAKE, Josh Kilmer-Purcell, Edith Layton, Logan Levkoff, Suzanne Portnoy, Sofia Quintero, M.J. Rose, Lauren Sanders, Danyel Smith, Grant Stoddard, Cecilia Tan, Carol Taylor, Dana Vachon, Veronica Vera, Susan Wright, and many others. The series has gotten press attention from Escape (Hong Kong), Flavorpill, The L Magazine, New York magazine, Philadelphia City Paper, Gothamist, and Wonkette, and has been praised by Dr. Ruth. This is not Amanda Stern's Happy Ending Reading Series.

Rachel Kramer Bussel is Senior Editor at Penthouse Variations, conducts interviews for and, and wrote the popular Lusty Lady column for The Village Voice. Her erotic stories have been published in over 100 anthologies, including Best American Erotica 2004 and 2006, and she's edited numerous erotica anthologies, most recently He's on Top: Erotic Stories of Male dominance and Female Submission, She's on Top: Erotic Stories of Female Dominance and Male Submission, Caught Looking: Erotic Tales of Voyeurs and Exhibitionists and Naughty Spanking Stories from A to Z 2. Rachel has also written for AVN, Bust, Cosmo UK, Gothamist, Huffington Post, Mediabistro, Metro, New York Post, Punk Planet, San Francisco Chronicle, Time Out New York and Velvetpark.

John Blesso's latest book is Sharehouse Confidential: Sex, Drugs and the Single Life Inside an Epicurean Beach House, his comedic memoir of buying and renovating a seven-bedroom beach house to distract him from post-9/11 America. This behind-the-scenes tell-all takes readers on a wild tour of his epicurean playground where a pool of New York City singles dine extravagantly and commingle beneath his communal roof. In 2006, John Blesso was not awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature.

Poet/novelist Perry Brass has published 14 books and been a finalist six times in three categories for Lambda Literary Awards. His work has been included in 25 anthologies, including The Penguin Book of Homosexual Verse and The Columbia University Book of Gay Literature. His novel Warlock: A Novel of Possession, won an "Ippy" Award from Independent Publisher Magazine. His novel, The Substance of God: A Spiritual Thriller, a Lammy finalist, asked the question: is our often censored urge toward sex the same urge as our urge toward a higher presence, known as God. His newest novel is Carnal Sacraments: A Historical Novel of the Future, set in 2075, when your lifespan will be determined by your job, privacy will be antiquated, and homosexuality will be permitted but only in its most sanitized and corporatized form. He teaches writing privately.

Catherine Lundoff is the author of two collections of lesbian erotica: Night's Kiss (Torquere Press, 2005) and Crave: Tales of Love, Lust and Longing (Lethe Press, 2007). Her short fiction has appeared in such collections as Periphery: Erotic Lesbian Futures, Lust for Life, Garden of the Perverse, Amazons, Caught Looking, Best Fantastic Erotica Vol. 1, Stirring Up a Storm and Naughty Spanking Stories from A to Z.

Under her pen name E-Fierce, Elisha Miranda wrote her debut novel, The Sista Hood: On the Mic. She received her MFA in film from Columbia University. Also an activist, film director, entrepreneur, and writer of television and film, she is the co-founder of Chica Luna Productions, a nonprofit arts company for young women of color, to create quality urban media. In 2006, she launched her multi-media production company, Sister Outsider Entertainment with creative partner, Sofia Quintero where they are developing an edgy Latina Sex and the City sitcom for television.

Michelle Herrera Mulligan is the editor of Juicy Mangos: The Best Latina Erotica, the first-ever literary collection of Latina erotica in English. The collection of seven novellas was released by Atria Books this July. In 2004, she co-edited Border-Line Personalities: A New Generation of Latinas Dish on Sex, Sass, and Cultural Shifting, an anthology of essays on the contemporary American Latina experience. Michelle is a freelance writer based in Fort Greene, Brooklyn, and her articles have appeared in Time, Woman's Day, and Publisher's Weekly. She is currently working on her first novel.

And Juicy Mangos is out now! Here's some more about it, and Elisha and Michelle will be reading from it:

"Do not read this in bed or your sheets just might catch on fire. It is that hot!"

-- Zane

"Juicy Mangos is an amazingly well done collection of stories...not only a tantalizing read, but a deeply rewarding one as well."

-- Oscar Hijuelos, Pulitzer Prize-winning author of The Mambo Kings

Play Songs of Love

"Hurray to the writers of these clever (and revealing) stories."

-- Lisa Wixon, author of Dirty Blonde and Half-Cuban

"These stories aren't just juicy; they're spicy, sweet, seductive, tender, haunting, and hunger-inducing."

-- Rachel Kramer Bussel, editor of He's on Top and She's on Top

Book Description

Juicy Mangos will shatter your ideas of female innocence forever.

Here, the smartest, sexiest literary writers are gathered to tell stories of women at their rawest and most intimate. Each of the seven stories centers around a holiday -- from Valentine's Day to Christmas -- when these enticing characters slip out of their daily roles and take on new, daring personas: A married woman finds a back door to Eden where fantastical orgies force her to confront her true and dangerous sexual desires, a historiographer experiences a lustful affair while wearing an enchanting antique dress as an erotic disguise, a sex-toy saleswoman takes on a business partner with benefits to boost her sales.

With exotic backdrops around the world and beautiful, complex characters, Juicy Mangos is sexy enough to keep you glued to the page. But like its diverse protagonists, the stories are smart and provocative and will leave you hot long after your touch on the page has cooled.

Some heads up so you can get there EARLY. And we'll be taping it for posterity! Last time Jessica Cutler read (at True Sex Confessions, April 2006), it was a mob scene. I promise you don't want to miss this!

(B/D to Grand, J/M/Z to Bowery, F to Delancey,
Admission: Free
Happy Ending Lounge: 212-334-9676

You've heard them read at In The Flesh before, now come back for round two! Audience favorites are welcomed back to the stage to read new material, so whether you caught them the first time around or not, you won't want to miss this spectacular lineup of people sure to make you laugh, squirm, and get turned on (perhaps all at once!). With Marie Lyn Bernard (This Girl Called Automatic Win), Andrew Boyd (Daily Afflictions), Jessica Cutler (The Washingtonienne), Polly Frost (Deep Inside), Todd Levin (Mo Pitkin's, The Morning News), Samara O'Shea (For the Love of Letters), hosted by Rachel Kramer Bussel (He's on Top, She's on Top, Hide & Seek). Free candy and cupcakes will be served.

In the Flesh is a monthly reading series hosted at the appropriately named Happy Ending Lounge, and features the city's best erotic writers sharing stories to get you hot and bothered, hosted and curated by acclaimed erotic writer and editor Rachel Kramer Bussel. From erotic poetry to down and dirty smut, these authors get naked on the page and will make you lust after them and their words. Since its debut in October 2005, In the Flesh has featured such authors as Laura Antoniou, Andy Mo Beasley, Lily Burana, Jessica Cutler, Stephen Elliott, Valerie Frankel, Polly Frost, Gael Greene, Andy Horwitz, Debra Hyde, Maxim Jakubowski, Emily Scarlet Kramer of CAKE, Josh Kilmer-Purcell, Edith Layton, Logan Levkoff, Suzanne Portnoy, Sofia Quintero, M.J. Rose, Lauren Sanders, Danyel Smith, Grant Stoddard, Cecilia Tan, Carol Taylor, Dana Vachon, Veronica Vera, Susan Wright, and many others. The series has gotten press attention from Escape (Hong Kong), Flavorpill, The L Magazine, New York magazine, Philadelphia City Paper, Gothamist, and Wonkette, and has been praised by Dr. Ruth. This is not Amanda Stern's Happy Ending Reading Series.

Rachel Kramer Bussel is Senior Editor at Penthouse Variations, conducts interviews for and, and wrote the popular Lusty Lady column for The Village Voice. Her erotic stories have been published in over 100 anthologies, including Best American Erotica 2004 and 2006, and she's edited numerous erotica anthologies, most recently He's on Top: Erotic Stories of Male Dominance and Female Submission, She's on Top: Erotic Stories of Female Dominance and Male Submission, Crossdressing: Erotic Stories, Hide & Seek: 21 Tales of Exhibitionism and Voyeurism and Naughty Spanking Stories from A to Z 2. Rachel has also written for AVN, Bust, Cosmo UK, Gothamist, Mediabistro, Metro, New York Post, Punk Planet, San Francisco Chronicle, Time Out New York and Velvetpark.

Marie "Riese" Lyn Bernard is a half-Jewish, half-Midwestern Farmer's-Daughter freelance aspirant. She blogs at "The L Word Online" and is a Guestbian columnist on Her work has appeared in The Bigger the Better, the Tighter the Sweater: 21 Funny Women On Beauty, Body Image, and Other Hazards of Being Female, Best Women's Erotica 2005, Best American Erotica 2007, the Lambda Literary Award-winning Erotic Interludes 2: Stolen Moments, Marie Claire magazine, Suspect Thoughts,, Clean Sheets, Fresh Off the Vine, Conversely,, and The Sarah Lawrence Review. She's currently looking to change the world with a gay television show called Living it Out. She's at her best on her blog, This Girl Called Automatic Win, at

Andrew Boyd is the co-founder of the satirical political campaign Billionaires for Bush and author of several ironically serious (or is it seriously ironic?) books: Daily Afflictions: The Agony of Being Connected to Everything in the Universe and Life's Little Deconstruction Book: Self-Help for the Post-Hip, both from W.W.Norton. He's at work on two others, from which he will read tonight.

Jessica Cutler is best-known as the author of The Washingtonienne, both the blog and novel of the same name, which was published by Hyperion in 2005 and optioned by Sarah Jessica Parker for a television series for HBO.

Polly Frost's book Deep Inside: Extreme Erotic Fantasies, was published by Tor in June. She just completely a tour of 10 cities across the country with "Sex Scenes: Erotic and Comic Tales of Hollywood," casting local actors in each city. "Sex Scenes" was co-written with her husband, Ray Sawhill. Together they also co-wrote and produced the erotic sci fi comedy The Fold this year, with director, Matt Lambert.

Todd Levin is a stand-up comedian, a writer, and a severe disappointment to his parents. He performs all over NYC, at venues including The Upright Citizens Brigade Theater, Rififi, Mo Pitkin's, KGB, and Joe's Pub, and has appeared on Comedy Central's Premium Blend and at the 2006 US Comedy Arts Festival in Aspen. His writing has been published in Salon, Time Out, Esquire, McSweeney's, The Morning News, RADAR, and The Onion, and he is one of the contributing writers for the upcoming book, Gawker's Guide to Conquering All Media. He is also the proud father of a nine year-old personal web site,

Samara O'Shea has been writing letters since the restless age of seven. She launched in April 2005 to save the art from extinction. The website led to her first book For the Love of Letters: A 21st-Century Guide to the Art of Letter Writing from the Elegant to the Erotic (HarperCollins, May 2007). Her work has also appeared in Woman's Day, Country Living, All You, and Pittsburgh magazine as well as the online magazines and She has appeared on Today in New York and on National Public Radio's the Kojo Nnambi Show.

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