My naked lady erotica anthology Smooth is on sale for $1.99

Good news: my Cleis Press erotica book all about skin on skin and naked sex, Smooth, is only $1.99 for Kindle (click through and you can get a free sample via email or read my introduction), Nook, iBooks, Google Play or Kobo! If you want to find out when my next book's on sale, follow me on BookBub (that's how I found out about this one).



I'm always thrilled when any of my books get put on BookBub by my publisher, because it means that they are reaching a whole new audience and it means these stories remain accessible. I'm in the process of putting one of my many out of print books out myself, and it saddens me that there are other anthologies that will probably only ever be read by whoever purchased them when they were print only. There's only so much I can do about that, but I'm grateful that these titles are not only still around and available in multiple formats, but also that throughout the year so many of my books have a sale price so they are available for a few bucks.

I know you might be thinking: aren't there nude people in every erotica story? Well, not necessarily (there's a lot you can do in sexy lingerie or a plain t-shirt or anything else. For me, when I edit an anthology, I try to find stories that have a special way of approaching the topic that will, yes, turn the reader on, but also add something to the subject. The sushi story combines two of my favorite things, food and sex, in a delicious way and every story brings a new way of looking at nudity. I think the sale is on through Sunday, September 10th. If you check it out (or give it as a gift to someone who could use some sexy stories), I hope you enjoy it.

About Smooth: The caress of skin against skin, the warmth of another's touch, relishing the sight that few others get to see - these are the reasons that disrobing before sex can be so gratifying. The stories in Smooth, collected by award-winning erotica editor Rachel Kramer Bussel, capture the heat of being stripped bare, of flaunting your body, and of reveling in pure sensuality. Read along as women get tattooed, become "the sushi girl" at a restaurant, strip on the subway, go commando, host tea parties, enjoy sploshing and much more. Featuring stories by Donna George Storey, Heidi Champa, Angela Caperton, Charlotte Stein, Louisa Harte, Jacqueline Applebee, Susan St. Aubin and more, these adventurous characters have more to reveal than just being naked.

Table of contents:

Introduction: Naked Girls in All Their Glory
Löyly Angela Caperton
Her Brand-New Skin Elizabeth Coldwell
Eden Molly Slate
Three Stops Away Heidi Champa
The Sushi Girl Anika Gupta
This Night Suzanne V. Slate
Ink Jennifer Peters
Adornment Is Power Teresa Noelle Roberts
Muscle Bound K.D. Grace
Shower Fittings Giselle Renarde
Clean Slate Lisabet Sarai
Live Action Susan St. Aubin
Chilly Girl Rachel Kramer Bussel
Stripped Clancy Nacht
The Tea Party Charlotte Stein
Rapunzel Jacqueline Applebee
Getting the Message Kay Jaybee
Ivy League Associates Donna George Storey
True Colors Louisa Harte

3 Reasons I Don't Give Feedback on Rejected Submissions

Read them at The Nervous Breakdown

Recently, I've noticed an uptick in authors asking for a critique of the stories I've rejected from my anthologies. Most of them ask politely, and I send back the shortest reply I can explaining that I have a rule against giving any sort of critique. This latest round of requests made me wonder if perhaps I was being too harsh, but then I realized that there are very good reasons for me to refuse. Here are the top three:

Time

Keep reading at The Nervous Breakdown

Better late than never link love and some thoughts on the submissions process and editorial wishlists

I just don't get to update here as often as I'd like, but I do post links to my articles, news and reviews promptly on my Facebook fan page.

A few recent things I wrote:

College Sex Scribes Are Campus Stars" at Alternet - my review of Daniel Reimold's Sex and the University (Rutgers University Press). Lede: "Is That a Gold Medal Between Your Tits?"

"Would You Send a Pink Toy to a Baby Boy?" at Huffington Post - I did. Includes mention of Peggy Orenstein's fascinating new book Cinderella Ate My Daughter. And aww...my friend Diana Joseph posted a photo of her son with the toy on FB. He's a fan, apparently. Opening:

Dear Diana,

I know Teddy is a boy, but I'm sending this pink block because it's my favorite baby toy, and the only one I had left of a stash I'd bought. I really hope he likes it, and that I can visit soon and shake it at him. I can't seem to find them from the place I used to get them, and they've been a big hit with the babies I know, and hope it's okay that I'm sending it. Yes, I feel a little silly sending this, but didn't want you to think I didn't know his gender.

Keep reading

And some reviews from Dirty Sexy Books:

Review of Smooth: Erotic Stories for Women. Part that fascinated me most:

“The Sushi Girl” by Anika Gupta was another story that I loved. This one was all about the sensuality for me. A girl laying on a table naked and covered in Sushi is an incredibly erotic image. The story is told from her point of view and it was so interesting to read it and imagine being the one laying there. The men in the room are not allowed to touch her with bare hands, instead they must use their chopsticks to get their food. Sometimes dialog can take away from the mood with just a wrong word and this story ramps up the intensity for me because she never says a word, and they do not speak to her either.

There was one story that made me feel so uncomfortable I could not even finish reading it. The story was “Eden” by Molly Slate. This story is about Adam and Eve; yes THAT Adam and Eve. When I think about Adam and Eve, I think about God and the Bible and Church. You know who goes to church? My parents. I can not feel even a little bit sexy when any of those things enter my brain.

Visit official Smooth site for more information.



Review of Best Bondage Erotica 2011, which I'm so glad tapped into the diversity. More on that after the quote.

All of the stories here feel very genuine– the writing is fantastic (there’s a welcome lack of the embarrassing euphemisms that sometimes plague erotic writing) and the narration is nearly always pitch-perfect. “Truss Issues” by Lux Zakari is narrated by a woman who is simultaneously terrified and aroused by her partner’s bondage kink, and the story deals not only with the sex but also with the overcoming of her trust issues.

I was a little nervous that the collection would be very homogeneous, but almost every kind of coupling is presented here (there’s male/male in “Relative Anonymity” by Emerald, and some wonderful lesbian scenes, especially in “Foreign Exchange” by Evan Mora), and the more traditional handcuffs are often replaced by crazier things (Ethernet cables! Plastic wrap! Seat belts!).

That variety is exactly what I'm looking for as I edit the 2012 edition. Of course a book of bondage erotica is going to appeal to a more niche audience than some of the others ones (my money, literally and figuratively, is on Gotta Have It to be my "breakout" book) and what I'm always looking for, otherwise, even excellent stories just don't stand out from each other. It's why I often have to reject great stories, and I think that process, as hellish as it is (there have been times having to reject stories made me want to quit editing anthologies altogether, it sucks so much), has taught me to be a better writer and to think way outside the box. I'm not saying be different just for the sake of being different, but on my end, there are themes that emerge and unless that's the actual theme of the book, there are only so many similar-type stories I can put in any one book before I risk alienating/boring readers.

Some things I can't help, like that the majority of stories that came in are from the submissive's point of view. That always happens and I've concluded that there is perhaps more "action" from the bottom's POV, and also that it's harder to tell a story of a dominant person without them sounding like an asshole. Of course it can be done well, but I think for many that's a more challenging viewpoint, to try to get at the heart of sadism. It's why when I edit nonfiction books I get a million and one "I'm a submissive feminist" essays and have truly yet to see the corollary from a man. I know from personal experience they are out there and that essay? Would love to read it/see it, but I also see the risks a man, especially, but a dominant woman, too, would have to take to attach their real name to a piece on why they love slapping/biting/binding/hurting women in a consensual BDSM context (I have zero interest in knowing why anyone would want to do that in a nonconsensual context, that's not what I'm talking about).

So that is my long-winded way of saying that diversity is what keeps me editing, keeps me looking. There are so many more diverse things I want, too, like less white-lady-with-exotic-man-of-color without the corollary, and older characters, and varied settings, but my new motto is "the perfect is the enemy of the good." I can't file books late waiting for "the perfect story" to come down the pike. Being an editor of an anthology is largely a passive waiting/wishing act, for me, anyway, but the reward really is that I get to discover so many new writers, which is another thing I have to balance. Yeah, maybe by writing this and thinking about it too much I make the process too hard. We'll see. Also for some anthologies I get over 100 submissions, like for Women in Lust but apparently oral sex is not that popular of a topic because that one (Going Down) I got a lot fewer submissions. I was hoping to file that book before I went to California, but I will have to see if I have enough or have to extend the deadline. That's how that works on my end; when I extend a deadline, it's because I'm still waiting for that mythical (or not) "perfect story." And that's the beautiful/maddening part of the public call for submissions: the unknown.

There are other reviews but some are very short so these were the meatier ones, but do check out Dirty Sexy Books for, well, reviews of Dirty Sexy Books and postings by book lovers.

Free sex story: snow and ice in "Chilly Girl" from Smooth: Erotic Stories for Women

Another free erotica story for you, this one seasonally appropriate! From Smooth: Erotic Stories for Women, by me! You have until Friday for 20% off when buying books directly from Cleis Press.



Smooth: Erotic Stories for Women; is an erotic anthology edited by Rachel Kramer Bussel, was published by Cleis Press in September 2010.

The caress of skin against skin, the warmth of another’s touch, relishing the sight that few others get to see — these are the reasons that disrobing before sex can be so gratifying. The stories in Smooth, collected by award-winning erotic editor Rachel Kramer Bussel, capture the heat of being stripped bare, of flaunting your body, and of reveling in pure sensuality. Read along as women get tattooed, become “the sushi girl” at a restaurant, strip on the subway, go commando, host tea parties, enjoy sploshing, and much more. Featuring stories by Donna George Storey, Heidi Champa, Angela Caperton, Charlotte Stein, Louisa Harte, Jacqueline Applebee, Susan St. Aubin and other leading erotica writers, these adventurous characters have more to reveal than just being naked.



Order Smooth: Erotic Stories for Women from:



Amazon.com



Kindle edition



Bn.com (Barnes & Noble)



Books-a-Million



Borders



Powell's



IndieBound (find your local independent bookstore)



Cleis Press

Chilly Girl
by Rachel Kramer Bussel

Chilly Girls: that was the name of the website I’d seen when I’d come into Alex’s office to see if he wanted any coffee before I settled in for the night, there in bright, bold, big, orange, graffiti-like writing atop white sloping hills. Chilly, in this case, meant naked girls plopped on top of piles of snow, hence the white. I didn’t see much more as his finger hovered on the cursor for just a moment before he clicked it back to his screenplay, turned to me and, with a totally straight face, said, “Can you make me a decaf?”

I’d called up to him a few moments earlier to see if he needed anything; I knew he was in the throes of it, and from earlier experience, I knew that my husband could become so stuck in his head he forgot basic life functions, like eating or sleeping. His first script had sold to an indie production company and was only now, six years later, actually finding its way to the big—or rather, medium-size—screen. His work on the second had meant that I’d slept alone many nights, only awakening when he crawled into bed at three or four or five and wrapped his tired body around me.
Now, as I went downstairs, I felt not only duped--here I’d been bringing Alex meal after meal, waiting on him basically hand and foot even though I was the one mainly responsible for bringing home the bacon--I also felt like the most boring woman alive. I wasn’t jealous, just annoyed; not only had I not known my husband had a snow fetish, I didn’t even know snow fetishes existed!

What did he need to look at those girls for? I hadn’t felt any competition with porn when I was dating guys, but this was my husband, the man whose ring I wore 24/7, who I thought I knew almost better than he knew himself, and here he was, not even letting me know that he liked to take breaks by looking at girls making naked snow angels and doing dirty things with icicles. I’d thought we were a modern couple, the type who watched porn together, like we did the one time we’d found an old theater that was harkening back to its roots by showing Deep Throat. We’d sat there, hands clutching each other, while men thirty years our senior shuffled around us, furtively trying to recreate their more youthful experiences. We’d been young then, in our twenties; now, we were in our forties. Did that mean we couldn’t take risks anymore? Or that if we did, we had to hide them from each other?

I looked down at my threadbare white T-shirt, the one that used to delight me because my nipples showed through, and my black and hot-pink gym shorts and immediately felt underdressed. Maybe he was looking at those girls because he wanted the kind of woman who’d do something like that, who’d throw caution to the wind, or, in this case, the snow, instead of one who brought him coffee and made him dinner. That was all well and good, but was snow really that sexy? Not when you lived in Minneapolis and the prospect of it could threaten to ruin any plans you may so foolishly have made.

I could still easily recall the last snowstorm in March that had left us housebound for two days. Even after the worst of it was over, the dregs of it had lingered. The only upside was that we were all more appreciative of the clear roads and the warm sun later. I was thrilled that it was finally summer and we had a while before we had to worry about any more storms. Who’d choose snow over sun? Yet if this was something Alex was really into, I wanted to know more. Maybe I was missing something, like the time he’d insisted I try just a dab of wasabi on my tongue, after my umpteenth order of chicken teriyaki. I’d been afraid it would sear my insides, but I’d found I liked the rush of fire to my tongue and now regularly cooked with wasabi paste.

I didn’t say anything to him at first. I didn’t know what to say as I absorbed this shock. I wanted to be angry, like I might be if he was cheating on me, but he wasn’t, not at all. I was more curious than upset, the feeling edged with a hint of arousal. I wanted to be the kind of girl who’d do something like that--who’d do it, and like it. And the more I thought about it, the more I wanted to know exactly what it felt like: Would my skin recoil at the shock of the cold? Or would it be like those moments when I ran an ice cube along my bare neck on a hot day, or dared to pass my finger through a candle flame?

When I was alone with my trusty vibrator, the one I sometimes thought of as my diary, my therapist, my beloved, I talked to myself, playing out the scene. At first, all I could think was, Cold, cold, cold. Would I be facedown in the snow, my face caressing its tender blanket of whiteness, my nipples forming indentations, my backside on display? Or would he want me to make a naked snow angel, flapping my wings, snow inching its way between my legs, encasing my labia?

I kept on going, though, imagining the moment after my skin connected with the frosty flakes, when I’d settled into the snow, become one with it--and pictured Alex watching me. I imagined him holding his cock above me, jerking off, warming me with his come. That did itæI came, my body shaking even as I shivered at the phantom chill.
But how to go about telling him I wanted to do this without him thinking I’d spied on him? After all, it was sunny, the middle of August, not exactly prime snow season. So instead I waited. And practiced. Over the next month I took ice-cold showers, gradually getting used to the way the blast hit my skin. Instead of flinching away, I stood proudly, back arched, nipples bared to the blast. It was a form of masochism, to be sure, but though I’m stubborn as a mule, I also have a submissive streak. Whether in this case I was submitting to Alex or myself or nature, I wasn’t sure, I just knew I wanted to do it.

I made friends with ice cubes, making sure to fish them out of my water or soda and tuck one into my mouth. Alone, the nights Alex was working late or if he wasn’t around, I’d stare at myself in my full-length mirror, tracing a piece of ice that had been softened by the warmth of my hand along my neck and on down, watching the icy rivulets trail down my pale peach skin. My nipples perked up when the ice hit my areolas, and I found myself simultaneously craving the cube and fearing it. In some ways, the ice was probably more intense than the snow would be, but I felt like I was training for my own personal sexual marathon. And the more I did it, the more I liked itæplus I liked having a secret, an erotic thrill all my own.

The added bonus was that I got to know my body in a whole new way. I used to think that didn’t happen once you’re in your thirties, once you’re married, once you’ve crossed some line where you assume you’ve done all you can when it comes to sexual experimentation. But as I gasped in pleasure while tracing a cube of ice along my labia, then pressing it inside, I knew I’d never reach that point. I could be a chilly girl--or any kind of girl I wanted. And even though it was only September, I knew I had to tell Alex, to share this discovery with him. It was hot and sexy, but it would be more fun with him.

I decided to tell him in the kitchen, a somewhat neutral zone. It was a warm day and I kept flapping the freezer door open and sticking my head inside, then I took out an ice cube and tucked it inside my bra. I kept fidgeting and finding excuses to poke my head in the freezer until Alex finally asked me what was wrong. “Well, it’s hot out…and I wanted to see what it was like. You know,” I said, my voice softening in what I hoped was a seductive way. I hadn’t had to truly seduce anyone in so long, I didn’t know if that side of me still worked. Married sex was different; we didn’t need the social cues and niceties most of the time. We could go after what we wanted without (much) fear of rejection. I realized I was trembling from more than just the ice cube.

“What do you mean by that?” he asked, watching me closely. Had I let too much slip in my tone?

“I just meant…okay, look. I hate secrets and I have to tell you something. I walked into your office one day and you were looking at a site. Chilly Girls. Girls in the snow. Naked girls in the snow. It got me thinking about what that would be like. And I want to find out. With you. I want you to fuck me in the snow.” That last part hadn’t been part of the speech I’d rehearsed in my head, but there it was, not just the words, but the image in my head: me beneath him, my ass pressed deep into the snow while his hard, hot cock drilled into me in the way that always makes me warm all over.

Alex looked away, his face bright red. I couldn’t tell if he was mad; yes, even after all these years, he’s managed to maintain a poker face worthy of Lady Gaga. Then he started laughing, a little at first, then harder and harder. “April, are you serious? I just figured it was a porn thing.” He sighed. “You don’t have anything to be jealous about, baby. I don’t really want the girls in the snow, or even a girl in the snow. It’s just something fun to look at.”

I didn’t totally believe him. “But then how come you never said anything?”

“Well…it’s private. It’s what I jerk off to.”

“I guess I can understand that; I have fantasies too. I just feel like we’ve been growing apart, and I want us to be close again, as close as we can be. And I want it now for me, not just for you. I want to be a chilly girl. I want to see what it’s like.”

“You do? You aren’t nervous?”

“Of course I’m nervous! But remember when we used to do all kinds of wild and crazy things? Why can’t we be like that again?”

“Okay, but it’s September. Where are we going to find snow? Unless you know something I don’t?”

“We could take a trip. Or we could just…practice. With ice.”

His face lit up and he grabbed me. “I have an idea. You remember Ralph? He runs that butcher shop? I bet he’d let us in the freezer.”

Okay, so sex in a meat locker wasn’t exactly what I’d been after, but I liked his spirit. Just then, though, he told me to lie in the bathtub and put on my face mask…only now it would be a blindfold. I lay there in the claw-foot tub we’d spent a fortune on, one I regularly dropped paperback novels in as I luxuriated in the heat of a hot bath. Now, my nipples stiffened, prepared for the opposite. I sank back against the bath pillow, letting my fingers dawdle at my breasts, lightly stroking my sex.
And then the tumbling started--the tumbling of ice cubes. Alex poured all the ones we’d had in the freezer into the bath, then took one and traced it from the back of my neck on down. “I’m going to cover you in ice cubes. I’m going to fill this bath with them and fill your pussy with them and even shove one up your ass and let it leak out. I’m going to make you cold right down to your bones--and you’re going to like it.” His voice wasn’t sinister, exactly, but there was a hint of danger, a dark edge that made me shiver in a new way. He lifted the mask and I looked up at him and he leaned down and kissed me, his tongue reaching for mine. Just as I got lost in the kiss, I felt an ice cube press against the side of my neck, the equivalent of a snowball landed square on an unsuspecting bystander.

I pulled my tongue away, but I didn’t protest. I’d asked for this, and as the cubes settled around me, I realized I liked it. In some ways this was more intense than a snowy mountainside, but that had never been the real point anyway. I’d wanted him to see me as the girl who’d do anything--for him. I reached for a cube and ran it against my nipple, smiling when he helped.

Alex made me lie there and simply soak in the cold for half an hour; we didn’t get the tub all the way full, but it was enough. He climbed in with me, helping me warm up as the ice water lapped against my skin. He was hard, his cock wedging itself between my legs. For a second I wondered if he’d be able to keep his erection, but I soon learned that wasn’t a problem. I screamed as his cock sank into me, the heat emanating from him such a contrast to the rest of my surroundings. “Oh, god, you feel so good. I’m sorry I made you think I preferred anyone to you. You’re my favorite girl in hot and cold weather.” He laughed, then stopped as I shifted, hiking one foot up against the shower wall and throwing the other in the air. His hands cupped my bottom as he thrust hard into me. I focused entirely on Alex--on his gritted teeth, his light brown hair falling in his face, his firm chest and his cock, pushing into me, stretching me. I forgot for a few seconds about hot and cold, right and wrong and was simply lulled by the power of meeting him where my sex surrounded him. When I came, I clutched the edge of the tub hard, sinking back against the pillow. He pulled out and let me watch him come in the air, the liquid landing in our bath.

Alex wrapped me up in my fluffy purple robe, then made me hot chocolate with minimarshmallows and let me watch my favorite old sitcoms. He pampered me for the rest of the night, and continued to do so the rest of the week, like I’d accomplished some major feat. And maybe I had. I’d conquered my fears, my demons, my belief that those girls had something I didn’t. And I was never going back.

We’re planning a series of ski resort vacations, but the one I’m most looking forward to is at a resort that caters to nudists. Alex is taking his camera, and I’m continuing to practice.

Naked News video clip and sexy naked lady stories in Smooth

Last fall I was on Naked News and finally figured out how to get the clip online (thanks, Vimeo!). Obviously it's not safe for work, because my interviewer was completely naked. I can't quite describe what that was like but I was so impressed by the whole operation and she was incredibly nice and I certainly hope to go back on someday.

Rachel Kramer Bussel on Naked News from Rachel Bussel on Vimeo.

Speaking of having no clothes on, check out my brand-new anthology Smooth: Erotic Stories for Women. I'll be posting excerpts and more about it, but I can tell you there there's a sushi girl (read an excerpt from that story here), tattoos, sex workers, models and so much more.

A sushi girl, tattoos, spa sex & more in Smooth: Erotic Stories for Women

Smooth is shipping as we speak (coming up is Passion: Erotic Romance for Women next month, with the big reading from it for my 35th birthday 11/11, the reissue of Hide & Seek with a new foreword by The Burlesque Handbook author Jo Weldon and what I so so so so hope is the first of many, Best Bondage Erotica 2011! But first books first...

Smooth: Erotic Stories for Women; is an erotic anthology edited by Rachel Kramer Bussel, to be published by Cleis Press.

Order Smooth: Erotic Stories for Women from:



Amazon.com



Kindle edition (TK)



Bn.com (Barnes & Noble)



Books-a-Million



Borders



Powell's



IndieBound (find your local independent bookstore)



Cleis Press

The caress of skin against skin, the warmth of another’s touch, relishing the sight that few others get to see — these are the reasons that disrobing before sex can be so gratifying. The stories in Smooth, collected by award-winning erotic editor Rachel Kramer Bussel, capture the heat of being stripped bare, of flaunting your body, and of reveling in pure sensuality. Read along as women get tattooed, become “the sushi girl” at a restaurant, strip on the subway, go commando, host tea parties, enjoy sploshing, and much more. Featuring stories by Donna George Storey, Heidi Champa, Angela Caperton, Charlotte Stein, Louisa Harte, Jacqueline Applebee, Susan St. Aubin and other leading erotica writers, these adventurous characters have more to reveal than just being naked.



Table of Contents

Smooth: Erotic Stories for Women
Edited by Rachel Kramer Bussel

Introduction: Naked Girls in All Their Glory

Löyly Angela Caperton
Her Brand New Skin Elizabeth Coldwell
Eden Molly Slate
Three Stops Away Heidi Champa
The Sushi Girl Anika Gupta
This Night Suzanna V. Slate
Ink Jennifer Peters
Adornment is Power Teresa Noelle Roberts
Muscle Bound K D Grace
Shower Fittings Giselle Renarde
Clean Slate Lisabet Sarai
Live Action Susan St. Aubin
Chilly Girl Rachel Kramer Bussel
Stripped Clancy Nacht
The Tea Party Charlotte Stein
Rapunzel Jacqueline Applebee
Getting the Message Kay Jaybee
Ivy League Associates Donna George Storey
True Colors Louisa Harte

Introduction: Naked Girls in All Their Glory

Smooth. Sleek. Naked. Bare. All of these words describe the women you’ll find in this book, women who let you peek beneath their skirt hems, unbutton their blouses, reach inside their panties and in so doing, reveal something essential about themselves. They aren’t content to simply let sex happen, but are compelled to explore the ways their bodies react to every tactile moment.

These are not stories about body image or learning to love your curves. These are sensual tales in which women and men celebrate the joy of being carnal, lusty, hungry and animalistic; stories in which the urge to get naked, in the literal and figurative senses, drives women to boldly go where they haven’t before.

In the opening story, the stunning sauna romp “Löyly,” by Angela Caperton, Sorrow Cove becomes a very happy place when our heroine, Andie, submits to a sensual beating in the intense heat. Caperton writes, “Blood pounded in my veins and pooled suspiciously in my belly. Anticipation added an edge of tension and vulnerability before the bright shock of the strike. It wasn’t hard, but the leaves laced my skin with firm control, a lush wetness and a shimmer of sting that slashed my back with an awakening charge of delight. I closed my eyes, savoring the moment, the fresh scent of the birch binding me in a cloud of awareness and newfound sensation.”

Food and sex are clearly twin appetites waiting to be released, and in “The Sushi Girl,” by Anika Gupta, they converge in a work setting for the narrator as she balances raw fish on her body. She doesn’t just lie there, though; she engages with her customers, lets them look and taste even as she makes sure her naked body, while still, speaks loudly.

Each of these women are stripped, whether literally, as in Clancy Nacht’s story of the same name, or in some other way that leaves them vulnerable, exposed, open to whoever they’ve let enter their most personal space. Even when they are acting as voyeurs, watching others strip down, as in “Live Action,” by Susan St. Aubin, they are being changed by what they see, by the skin that speaks to them and their fantasies.

For other characters, adorning their bodies—with tattoos in “Ink,” by Jennifer Peters, or the sensual strokes of a paintbrush in “True Colors,” by Louisa Harte—is a way to live a more vibrant, outspoken life, and their reward is a richer sex life than they’d had before. That makes sense, because when we bare all, we invite others to touch, to feel every curve, every bend, every inch of skin.

Ultimately, this is a book about getting to know your body from the outside in, about showing yourself off for a lover and knowing the power the naked body holds. At the gym, in the shower, on the subway, at a tea party, the women in Smooth leave behind their inhibitions and go where many women have only dreamed about. Sexy, playful, sensual and celebratory, these nineteen stories will be sure to entice you as they reveal so much skin.

Rachel Kramer Bussel
New York City

Sauna sex story "Löyly" sneak peek: Smooth: Erotic Stories for Women

In the next week or so my editor copies of Smooth: Erotic Stories for Women (once upon a time called Naked, but it's been a big year for me of changing book titles, but still hot and bare bodied as ever!) and I wanted to share this sexy excerpt from Angela Caperton's story "Löyly" that's on the PGW site. There's lots of hotness in the book, including a tattoo story and a tattoo removal story!



You can pre-order Smooth now or I'll have 10 early copies to give away to those who promise to write an Amazon.com review within a month of receipt and are in the US (if you can't review, please DON'T request a copy - should be obvious but, um, not so much). I do those giveaways usually via Twitter but this is a heads up; send your Amazon.com profile (so I know you've purchased from them at least once and are eligible, via their terms) and your US mailing address with "Amazon" in the subject line to nakedantho at gmail.com and I'll send the first 10 people books as soon as they arrive. More about this book as we get closer to pub date. For now, do check out the Fast Girls virtual book tour and Orgasmic blog. Soon I'll get the Smooth site in order and links to all the lovely places you can purchase it.

Description:

The caress of skin against skin, the warmth of another’s touch, relishing the sight that few others get to see – these are the reasons that disrobing before sex can be so gratifying. The stories in Smooth, collected by award-winning erotica editor Rachel Kramer Bussel, capture the heat of being stripped bare, of flaunting your body, and of reveling in pure sensuality. Read along as women get tattooed, become “the sushi girl” at a restaurant, strip on the subway, go commando, host tea parties, enjoy sploshing and much more. Featuring stories by Donna George Storey, Heidi Champa, Angela Caperton, Charlotte Stein, Louisa Harte, Jacqueline Applebee, Susan St. Aubin and more, these adventurous characters have more to reveal than just being naked.

Excerpt:
Löyly
by Angela Caperton

Alone, at the north end of nowhere, I looked out through the rented Equinox’s windshield at the green roof of the hotel. Copper. Copper had been king in this part of Michigan a lifetime ago. In a more civilized place, the owners of the hotel might have to hire a private army to keep thieves from stripping the roof, but not out here?it was too far away from anything to warrant the attention of scavengers.

I really had lost my mind. What the fuck was I going to do at a snowbound resort on Lake Superior in fucking November? Damn you to hell, Jeff. “Best snowmobiling in the country! You’ll love it!”

“You’ll love it,” I mimicked as I clutched the steering wheel and contemplated spinning out of the driveway and hauling ass back to Savannah.

A young man--puppy, really--stepped smartly down the wide steps that lead to a wide wraparound porch. His navy blue parka was unzipped, the hotel logo shining gold on the right shoulder. He walked around the front of the SUV and opened the driver’s door.

“Welcome to Sorrow Cove!” He puffed mist and the blast of cold air that slapped me in the face nearly killed me. I shut off the engine of the SUV, took the keys and my purse, and exited the car.

The young man efficiently scribbled information on a claim ticket and I handed him the keys.

“Your name, miss?” he asked as he made notes on the ticket.

“Andie Fortner.”

He nodded and handed me the claim ticket. “Your luggage in the back?”

“Yes.”

“My name’s Luke. I’ll park your car and take your bags to your room, Miss Fortner. Enjoy your stay at Sorrow Cove.” He grinned at me with genuine hospitality and I found my cheeks cracking against the cold to return it.

“Thank you,” I managed, hoping my dismay at my own idiocy didn’t echo in the words.

He drove away. I stood for a moment in the grey slush of the driveway and stared up at the mammoth Queen Anne style mansion, water dripping in a steady stream from its gutters. Snow covered every inch of the landscape, weighing down massive boughs of cedars and evergreens, topping winter-bare hedges and what I imagined were lush lawns in the summer.
Snow. Goddamn snow.

“Fuck,” I said under my breath as I made my way into the hotel.


I stared at the dull mourning-grey ceiling of the spacious room. A deliciously soft bed cradled me in the warmth of my own body. I didn’t want to move, didn’t dare breach the cocoon I’d wrapped around myself. Jeff should have been there with me, his strong arms around me, his cock nudging my ass, a living alarm clock. He liked fucking in the mornings, liked working out the kinks with a ride or a suck. Bastard.

Why had I listened to Sonia? “Just go, honey! It’s already paid for, I bet there aren’t any refunds. Extending his contract in Riyadh was Jeff’s choice?not yours.”

No more. Jeff had blown me off more times than I could count, and this little vacation had been his idea, not mine. I pulled the covers over my head and spent the next several minutes envisioning Jeff being eaten by cannibal Eskimos.

I groaned and shoved the covers away, letting the blast of morning air temper my resolve. I wasn’t going to stay in bed and wallow. After all, Lake Superior was practically at my doorstep and I had made it this far. Within an hour I had showered, dressed, and armed myself with a map, determination, and a pocket full of credit cards. A little breakfast and I’d be ready to tackle anything.

Except a blizzard.

I stepped off the stairs into the lobby, dominated by wide bay windows that provided guests with a glorious view of the cove, the lake, and the woods on the east side of the estate. This morning the view was monochromatic, swirling, thick white with whiter highlights battering the panes of glass. I ignored the ball of unease forming in my stomach and walked into the empty dining room, the massive fireplace on one end filling the room with warmth and the pleasant scent of burning wood. A young woman in tight jeans and a thick sweater smiled at me and motioned. “Please, have a seat. Can I get you coffee?”

“Black.” I looked out the windows again and smiled. “Big.”

I ate my breakfast in silence, watched a few couples come and go, listened to the murmurs of quiet conversation and willed the snow to stop. I can handle a lot of things, but a big SUV in a white-out was not one of them.

Full of coffee and breakfast, I made my way to the front desk. “Good morning, Ms. Fortner. How can I help you?”

“What can you tell me about the weather?”

The clerk’s bald head nearly blushed. “The snow should slow by tomorrow.”

“Slow?”

“Yes, we’re in for a few days of it here, but tomorrow the snowmobiling and cross country skiing should be excellent.”

“I was hoping to do a little sightseeing actually, maybe some shopping.”

He didn’t laugh, didn’t even smile, but I could feel his desire to do both. “The roads to town are closed right now, Ms. Fortner. They should be open tomorrow, once the plows come through.”

I nodded as I envisioned myself holed up for days, only one room service tray away from hanging myself with shoelaces.
“My credit cards are safe for another day,” I said sardonically.

“There’s a game room to the left, and a small gym and indoor pool behind the dining room. And the sauna. It’s not in the main building, but you can get to it from the pool area, or from the hall exit. Just follow the walkway.”

I looked out the windows at the endless falling wall of white. Sure. Just follow the walkway. My luck, I’d end up in Canada.

“Thank you,” I said, and headed back up the stairs to my room, kicking myself in the ass all the way. I should have fucking held out for Martinque.


I’d been surprised by the pool, really. I knew from making the reservations that the resort had a pool, but I wasn’t expecting a pool I could actually do laps in. Who knew the tundra tribe understood the needs of us south-coasters. The heated water and condensation on the broad bay windows made me feel at home?except for the snow beyond, of course.

I swam for an hour, then I dragged my pruned body out of the pool, showered in the little changing room, and stepped back out on the deck to stand transfixed by the vista beyond the foggy windows. While annoyed by the shitty weather, I loved the beauty and serenity of the snowfall. The large flakes drifted down completely at the whim of whatever wind might blow. Some fell heavy, wet, like obese calcified raindrops, others drifted to the ground in intricate Zen paths.

The perfect blanket over the ground amazed me. Painted green, the smoothness of the carpet would have been the envy of Augusta National.

Except for the quickly filling divots leading off into the veil. Footprints made not long ago, headed toward what?

The sauna. Someone apparently had a GPS and had found the temple of Sorrow Cove.

The grin started in my belly, and without a moment’s analysis, I wrapped my robe around myself, scuffed on my rubber clogs and found the door leading outside. The blast of cold air almost made me run back to my room, but I had to do this?I had to beat the elements, had to take control of the vacation I’d never wanted but had inherited. If this trip was going to have any meaning, I needed to make it my own, not let it stay Jeff’s irrelevancy.

The snow kissed my hair and clung to my robe, the cold air keeping it from melting right away...

Read the whole story in Smooth: Erotic Stories for Women!

Smooth: Erotic Stories for Women
Edited by Rachel Kramer Bussel

Introduction: Naked Girls in All Their Glory

Löyly Angela Caperton
Her Brand New Skin Elizabeth Coldwell
Eden Molly Slate
Three Stops Away Heidi Champa
The Sushi Girl Anika Gupta
This Night Suzanna V. Slate
Ink Jennifer Peters
Adornment is Power Teresa Noelle Roberts
Muscle Bound K D Grace
Shower Fittings Giselle Renarde
Clean Slate Lisabet Sarai
Live Action Susan St. Aubin
Chilly Girl Rachel Kramer Bussel
Stripped Clancy Nacht
The Tea Party Charlotte Stein
Rapunzel Jacqueline Applebee
Getting the Message Kay Jaybee
Ivy League Associates Donna George Storey
True Colors Louisa Harte

Introduction: Naked Girls in All Their Glory

Smooth. Sleek. Naked. Bare. All of these words describe the women you’ll find in this book, women who let you peek beneath their skirt hems, unbutton their blouses, reach inside their panties and in so doing, reveal something essential about themselves. They aren’t content to simply let sex happen, but are compelled to explore the ways their bodies react to every tactile moment.

These are not stories about body image or learning to love your curves. These are sensual tales in which women and men celebrate the joy of being carnal, lusty, hungry and animalistic; stories in which the urge to get naked, in the literal and figurative senses, drives women to boldly go where they haven’t before.

In the opening story, the stunning sauna romp “Löyly,” by Angela Caperton, Sorrow Cove becomes a very happy place when our heroine, Andie, submits to a sensual beating in the intense heat. Caperton writes, “Blood pounded in my veins and pooled suspiciously in my belly. Anticipation added an edge of tension and vulnerability before the bright shock of the strike. It wasn’t hard, but the leaves laced my skin with firm control, a lush wetness and a shimmer of sting that slashed my back with an awakening charge of delight. I closed my eyes, savoring the moment, the fresh scent of the birch binding me in a cloud of awareness and newfound sensation.”

Food and sex are clearly twin appetites waiting to be released, and in “The Sushi Girl,” by Anika Gupta, they converge in a work setting for the narrator as she balances raw fish on her body. She doesn’t just lie there, though; she engages with her customers, lets them look and taste even as she makes sure her naked body, while still, speaks loudly.

Each of these women are stripped, whether literally, as in Clancy Nacht’s story of the same name, or in some other way that leaves them vulnerable, exposed, open to whoever they’ve let enter their most personal space. Even when they are acting as voyeurs, watching others strip down, as in “Live Action,” by Susan St. Aubin, they are being changed by what they see, by the skin that speaks to them and their fantasies.

For other characters, adorning their bodies—with tattoos in “Ink,” by Jennifer Peters, or the sensual strokes of a paintbrush in “True Colors,” by Louisa Harte—is a way to live a more vibrant, outspoken life, and their reward is a richer sex life than they’d had before. That makes sense, because when we bare all, we invite others to touch, to feel every curve, every bend, every inch of skin.

Ultimately, this is a book about getting to know your body from the outside in, about showing yourself off for a lover and knowing the power the naked body holds. At the gym, in the shower, on the subway, at a tea party, the women in Smooth leave behind their inhibitions and go where many women have only dreamed about. Sexy, playful, sensual and celebratory, these nineteen stories will be sure to entice you as they reveal so much skin.

Rachel Kramer Bussel
New York City