Sexy free read: Except from The Reward by Jade A. Waters

Today I'm bringing you a guest post from my friend Jade A. Waters, erotic novelist and frequent contributor to my anthologies, including The Big Book of Orgasms and Best Women's Erotica of the Year, Volume 1. This week, her third kinky erotic romance novel, The Reward, the final in her Lessons in Control series, was published, following Maya and Dean on their relationship journey.



Here's the official blurb:

What if the fantasy never had to stop?

It's been a year since Dean Sova turned Maya Clery's world inside out. There isn't a secret fantasy that Maya and Dean haven't explored—each one more tantalizing and mind-blowing than the last. But while their relationship may be stronger than ever, taking the next step pushes boundaries neither one of them is prepared to face.

Dean couldn't care less about Maya's background—all her choices made her the woman he wants to tie to his bed and never let go. But not even a Dom as strong as Dean can keep the past at bay. When a threat from Maya's old life surfaces, she'll have to choose once and for all: fight for freedom under Dean's command, or lose the reward she's worked so hard for—the chance to be happy with the man she loves.

From The Reward by Jade A. Waters, out now:

“Come see what I did.”

Dean winked, then shifted his body to rise from the couch. I arranged myself into a sit, entranced by the shimmer in his eyes once he reached his hand out for mine.

Curious, I followed him upstairs. I figured he’d spent the time I’d been at dinner unpacking things as promised, but when he led us toward the spare room, I didn’t suppress a chuckle.

“Did you spend all that time I was gone setting up something dirty?”

“Not all.” Dean spun to take both my hands, backing us through the doorway and into the center of the room before drawing me against his chest for a full-body embrace. “But I didn’t think you’d object to what I did do.”

He kissed me and I closed my eyes. I surrendered to the feel of his tongue and the strong rake of his palms down my back. It amazed me how this man could wow me with both sweet and sexy, the promise of something naughty dancing in his eyes when he caught my bottom lip in his teeth. Dean gave it a tug, and his hands curved down over my ass to grip me tight.

“What is it?” I asked.

“Wait.” He backed away, and my body drooped, but my blood started to churn harder in my veins. Dean opened the top drawer of the antique dresser he’d shown me the week before, and I kicked off my flip-flops as fast as I could. I didn’t think I’d need them. Dean pointed at the wall a few feet away from us and across from the window, the same one he’d backed me against the last time we were in here. I peered over. “Do you see?” he asked.

At first, I didn’t see anything. But I lifted my head and spotted two large eyelet screws extending from the wall up toward the corners. I turned back to Dean to find him holding a blindfold in his hands.

“This could be interesting,” I said. Aloof as I played it, my heart had kicked into a merciless pound and I cinched my knees together. Dean came over, his face serious before he circled me. I marveled at how fucking sexy he was—appraising me in his pajama pants, for God’s sake—and once he came back to press his chest against mine and lifted the blindfold over my eyes, I huffed out an excited breath.

“You know I hate not seeing your eyes,” he began, the husky murmur a tantalizing force when the satin of the blindfold met my face and he pulled the long ties behind my head to form a knot. “But I figure, with me going away for so long, we need a big send-off. Something sexy and dramatic.” His fingertips traced faint lines down my back that coaxed my nipples into stiff peaks, and then he cupped my ass again. “Something intense. I want it to be a sensation you savor while I’m gone, a memory you’ll keep playing back in that beautiful head of yours.”

My pussy clenched with Dean’s grasp of my shoulders to spin me in a slow circle. With his chest to my back and my view blocked, I hated not being able to see yet loved how hard it made me concentrate on his words and the shivers tripping along the surface of my skin. Dean brushed my hair aside to kiss the nape of my neck, then grabbed the hem of my shirt to whisk it up and off me, careful not to disrupt the blindfold he’d secured over my eyes.

“How do you feel?” he asked.

That question. Our question.

“Excited,” I whispered.

“Good.” Dean’s mouth covered my earlobe before he slid his palms up my belly and over my breasts, caressing me through my bra. I arched to rub my ass against him more, because I wanted to feel his arousal, too. The fabric of his pajama bottoms wasn’t leaving much to the imagination with him as hard as he was.

“Oh, Dean,” I growled.

“Yes, Maya?”

“I…” I tried to find the right words while he started to nudge me forward with the width of his body. He pinched my nipple in two fingers, and with his other hand, he drew the strap of my bra off my shoulder to kiss the spot it’d covered. “I love how you play with me.”

“That’s superb, because I love playing with you.” He bit my neck and we took one more step before he stopped me. The presence of the wall felt close by, and I lifted my hands to confirm it was directly in front of me. Dean said, “Tonight, I really want to play with you. Hard.”

He rocked up his hips, the move forceful enough to push me flush to the wall. I gasped, my pulse clattering. Dean unsnapped my bra fast, and after he pulled it off and tossed it aside, he trailed his mouth in hot kisses over my shoulders and down my sides before stripping away my jeans and panties.

Naked for him, I quivered. He took my earlobe in his teeth again, the sensation making me cock my head with a wisp of a sigh. In the press of his body along my back there was such a contrast between his hot, muscular form and the soft cotton of his T-shirt compared to the cold, unyielding wall before me. Smashed between them, every nerve in my body ached for more, for touch. I moaned at the slip of Dean’s tongue in my ear to taunt me, and once I turned my head, he guided my arms out to the sides. I stayed in place when he backed away, leaving my palms, cheek and chest pressed to the wall. The lack of his contact felt abrupt and cold.

“Come back.”

“I will. But I have to look at you right now. You’re always gorgeous—but waiting, naked, knowing you can’t see what comes next… It’s so sexy, Maya. Fuck.” He clapped his fingertips against my ass cheek in a sudden burst, and I jumped. “Spread your legs.”

Intrigued? You can get The Reward for Kindle U.S., Kindle UK, Nook, Google Play, iBooks, Kobo or directly from publisher Carina Press.

Bondage, bondage, bondage from Best Bondage Erotica series

For those who are already bondage erotica fans or those who are curious, I'm the editor of the Best Bondage Erotica series; while Best Bondage Erotica 2014 will be out in December (in reality probably late November, like a birthday present to me!), the previous 3 editions are out now: Best Bondage Erotica 2011 (Kindle edition; Nook edition; Audible audiobook edition), Best Bondage Erotica 2012 (Kindle edition; Nook edition), Best Bondage Erotica 2013 (Kindle edition; Nook edition). Here's a glimpse and links to more you can read below. If you've read and enjoyed any of them, I'd be especially grateful if you'd rate them on Amazon (links above) and/or on Goodreads: Best Bondage Erotica 2011, Best Bondage Erotica 2012, Best Bondage Erotica 2013. Thank you, and stay tuned for the lineup to Best Bondage Erotica 2014. Thank you for for supporting the series - I hope to be editing it many years into the future, because seeing how many ways people can be bound and bind others and reasons why they'd want to is a delight of my job, and forces me to push my own boundaries and the boundaries of my imagination. And a reminder that I'd love to see bondage in my upcoming anthologies, especially the kinky couples one (deadline July 1st!).


Best Bondage Erotica 2011
Read my entire story "Vegas Treat" free!

"Vegas Treat" got the deluxe photo essay treatment in Seth Kushner's CulturePOP - photo below by Seth Kushner.




Best Bondage Erotica 2012
Read excerpts from all 21 stories here


Best Bondage Erotica 2013

BDSM Book Reviews says:

What is really appealing about this book is the creative ways people are bound. The ones where there is a treat of exposure outside are exhilarating. The reader can feel both the excitement and the anxiety of being caught. One of the bondage stories includes walking through a hotel where others could see their sexy restraints before the Domme and her female submissive retires to a lush hotel room. Each one of these stories will appeal to many reader’s fantasies.

Foreword: Uncomfortable Truths Graydancer
Introduction: Loving Bondage Anywhere and Everywhere
An Introduction to Shibari Elizabeth Coldwell
This Is Me Holding You Annabeth Leong
Tying the Knot Tiffany Reisz
The Great Outdoors Teresa Noelle Roberts
What Vacations Are For Thomas S. Roche
Lights Out Mina Murray
Feeling the Heat Lucy Felthouse
You Can Look… Evan Mora
The Moons of Mars Valerie Alexander
Interlude for the Troops Louise Blaydon
Hot in the City Sommer Marsden
Passion Party Purgatory Logan Zachary
Steadfast Andrea Dale
Tree Hugger Giselle Renarde
A Public Spectacle D. L. King
Seven More Days N. T. Morley
A Bit of a Tangle Monocle
Wheelbarrow Position Danielle Mignon
The Longest Afternoon Medea Mor
Plastic Wrap Shoshanna Evers
Wiped Kay Jaybee
Foot and Mouth Rachel Kramer Bussel

Introduction: Loving Bondage Anywhere and Everywhere

One of the main things I look for when editing the Best Bondage Erotica series is variety. I want a mix of types of people being tied up, a range of implements used to bind, a diverse setting for these kinky scenarios. This year, I got all that and more—much more.

I was especially pleased to see that several authors threw open the bedroom door and took their kinky play outside. In “The Great Outdoors,” “Wheelbarrow Position” and “Tree Hugger,” you’ll find some very creative bondage that borders on exhibitionism, as well as full-on exhibitionism in “A Public Spectacle.” The excitement of being exposed, of baring your body to the elements and not being able to escape should someone walk by, is expounded on with kinky delight in these tales.

The variety doesn’t end there. There are newcomers, whether to bondage or specific types of bondage play, from shibari to a simple rope harness, plastic wrap to handcuffs to a chastity tube. There are sex toys, all manner of them, from a special pink ribbon to a Hitachi Magic Wand, and they come into play in ways that will surprise and delight you, but what I’m most thrilled about with this collection is what the men and women feel once they are tied up, bound, restrained, at someone else’s mercy. Here’s a sampling:

“…this is a stranger for whom I want to be the very best toy ever.” (“The Moons of Mars”)

“She focused on her breathing. Taking slow, deep breaths, she stared back at him, daring him to do his worst.” (“The Longest Afternoon”)

“The blatant hunger on his face almost made up for the last year of neglect. But he was struggling against his bonds now, and that just wouldn’t do.” (“Lights Out”)

“Maybe it’s because I’m a sucker that I fall for it every time. Maybe I just want to. But when I see and hear him taking out the duct tape, I squirm in anticipation.” (“Foot and Mouth”)

These characters find themselves appreciating even the discomfort of bondage, trading their autonomy for something greater, something that sets them free—from convention, from daily life, from their usual roles. It’s that freedom to exult, straight, mouth off, give and take pleasure that I hope comes across the strongest in these pages. For while these stories take place in a variety of settings, using all sorts of implements and household items, what they have in common is desire, curiosity and a willingness to pursue them, even when you’re not sure where the journey will take you. I hope dedicated bondage fans, newcomers and those of you who share that curiosity about the thrills of being tied to a tree or a chair or a bed, will keep this book handy and be inspired to dream up, and live out, your own fantasies.

Another sneak peek at "The Weight" in Best Bondage Erotica 2012

As I turn in the final copyedits on Best Bondage Erotica 2012, out in December (and hopefully a little early and here just after my birthday, November 10th) here's another excerpt from my story "The Weight" (read the first, which precedes this section, here).

Sometimes he just looks at me, stares at me so intently it’s a form of sadism in itself, if you’re the type of girl who shies away from being seen too deeply, from being naked in quite that way. His eyes devour me, shear all the layers off of me, drill into my consciousness as surely as any spell caster. He uses those looks sparingly, thankfully, because I am most helpless when he binds me with them, when he locks me down with a look that I’d be able to see from across the world. Those are the times when I truly know I’d do anything for him, though usually what I do in the moment is cry. Even one tear is such a symbolic surrender that it’s enough to make his eyes at least dim a little, following the tear’s path or going for the spot on my neck he loves to claim.

Mostly Damian likes to break me, to get me to crack so he can put me back together, if he chooses. Knowing he can choose is the spark that fires our relationship, that he can keep me whole, yet aching, or cracked open, raw, his, is the ultimate mental power trip. He likes to talk to me when he knows I can’t answer, at least, not with words. He gets his answer from the rest of me, from the way, when he feeds his fingers into my mouth, I open so wide I’m in awe as four fingers quickly invade my, truth be told, favorite hole. He probes my mouth like an explorer and grabs for my tongue, pinching, pressing, raking his short, smooth nails over it.

For the pubic hair lovers: an excerpt from "Topiary" by KD Grace in Obsessed

An excerpt from the story "Topiary" by KD Grace in Obsessed: Erotic Romance for Women.

At first Aden simply strokes my heavy curls, his face in deep concentration. His creative juices, like my own, are flowing. I begin to thrust lightly against his stroking, impatient for him to get on with it. But he won’t be rushed. There’s a stroke with the comb here, a shove of my leg there, a shivering with his fingers as he plumps and fluffs. “Yes, I see it now,” he breathes. “I know exactly how it’s supposed to be.”

He begins.

He combs and snips and says half under his breath, “Mm-hm, uh-huh, just a little more. That’s right. Perfect.” Then he switches to another pair of scissors. I can’t tell the difference, but he says he needs to create texture, depth, a sense of perspective.

“The landscape should always showcase its finest feature.” His fingers press in around my clit, and he rubs and strokes it to prominence.

I try to sit still as he clips and combs, but I’m slippery and swollen and all of the fantastical shapes in Aden’s exquisite topiary now appear orgiastic, spreading wide, thrusting upward, pouting and arching. The bench is damp beneath me and Aden’s trousers look as though they’re about to lose the battle for containment. He breathes like there’s a windstorm in his lungs, and with each snip, he squirms and shifts.

Read the whole story in Obsessed!



Order Obsessed from:

Amazon

Kindle edition (available August 15th)

Barnes & Noble

Powells

IndieBound (search for your local indie bookstore)

Cleis Press

Obsessed excerpt: "Spellbound" by Garnell Wallace

I'm thrilled to share the news that Obsessed: Erotic Romance for Women is officially out, and is shipping from Amazon and Cleis Press. More links and ebook coming on August 1st. For now, in honor of the first Amazon.com review, which I've posted below, here is an excerpt from "Spellbound" by Garnell Wallace, an author I'm publishing for the first (but hopefully not last) time. More excerpts are coming soon.



Spellbound
Garnell Wallace

My name is Kia Monet and my family thinks that I’m under a voodoo spell. It is the only way for my Haitian-born parents to explain why I’m wasting my life in the slums of Port-au-Prince with a low-budget filmmaker instead of being a trust-fund trophy wife in California.

If I was under a spell, it was Jonah’s smile, Jonah’s voice reciting French poetry in the dark during a respite from his magnificent cock. His cock is black magic; an evil one-eyed sorcerer, powerful enough to turn me into a quivering mass of nerves with just one twitch. I like to sleep with it buried deep inside me, its comforting pliability lulling me into the blissfulness of sleep. Even his long, tapered fingers buried deep in my pussy can bring on multiple experiences of what we French call la petite mort, or the little death, when you are so inflamed with passion at the moment of surrender it feels like you are about to surrender your soul as well. I’ve died a thousand times in Jonah’s arms in the time we’ve been together. With each rebirth, I feel more alive, more like the person I am meant to be. I am bewitched and have no desire to be cured.

Here's the Table of Contents again:

Silent Treatment Donna George Storey
One Night in Paris Kayla Perrin
Concubine Portia Da Costa
Love and Demotion Logan Belle
Mephisto Waltz Justine Elyot
Then Emerald
It’s Gotta Be Fate Jennifer Peters
Hooked Ariel Graham
Aftershocks Bella Andre
Secret Places Adele Haze
Loser Charlotte Stein
Here In Between Kristina Wright
Spellbound by Garnell Wallace
Raven’s Flight Andrea Dale
Raindrops and Rooftops Elizabeth Coldwell
Topiary K. D. Grace
I Want to Hold Your Hand Rachel Kramer Bussel
Storm Surge Teresa Noelle Roberts
Undercover Kink Louisa Harte

Do join us at the book party on August 25th in NYC! Here's the Facebook invitation if you want to spread the word.

August 25, 7-9 pm, FREE
JOINT BOOK PARTY FOR OBSESSED and THE LOST
Join editor Rachel Kramer Bussel and Obsessed contributors Logan Belle and Jennifer Peters, along with The Lost author Caridad Piñeiro, and Tied Up Events for a fabulous book party celebrating paranormal romance The Lost and Obsessed: Erotic Romance for Women! Free cupcakes, snacks, giveaways and more! Free goodie bags from The Pleasure Chest!
Fontana’s, 105 Eldridge Street, NYC
obsessederoticromance.com
caridad.com
tiedupevents.com
The Pleasure Chest

Want a postcard? (US only) Email obsessedantho at gmail.com with "Postcard" in the subject and your mailing address in the body.

And here's that Amazon review by Ilovebooks - thank you for those who signed up to review it who already have your copies! Stay tuned for Women in Lust in the fall.

What does it mean to be sexually obsessed? That's the question Rachel Kramer Bussel and her contributors aim to answer in this latest Cleis Press erotic anthology. The collection features 18 stories by such well-known erotic names like Donna George Storey, Kristina Wright and Teresa Noelle Roberts. Caridad Pinero, author of the Calling series, touches on some of the many meanings of obsession in her foreword.

My favorite stories include "Mephisto Waltz" by Justine Elyot, an author who works with the Black Lace erotic publishing company. It concerns a piano teacher and his student. I don't know, I just think there is something intrinsically hot about someone instructing you in the ways of love. The narrator also has an appealing voice in this story--an entirely believable virgin who is unsure of herself in music and love. And the story is erotic without being overly raunchy, which is a difficult trick to pull off. I liked this story in addition because it was about real characters, who you could envision in any scenario, not only an erotic one. I'd like to see a whole novel dedicated to these two characters.

Then there is "Here in Between" by Kristina Wright. This is another story with real-life characters. A woman gets a flat tire and finds herself flat on her back with a handsome stranger. The dialogue here is fantastic, and the ending gives one hope that these strangers will one day become more to each other than just ships passing in the night.

Spellbound by Garnell Wallace just gets points for having the best first sentence I think I've ever read in a short story: "My name is Kia Monet and my family thinks that I'm under a voodoo spell." After reading this story, you may want to book a flight to Haiti. Garnell Wallace's strength is her knack for describing even the smallest erotic detail.

Other highlights include "Raindrops and Rooftops" by Elizabeth Coldwell and Rachel Kramer Bussel's own contribution "I Want to Hold Your Hand." What happens when a partner loses weight and you liked him better thin? Or when you go to a movie for reasons other than what's playing on screen? Some pretty sexy stuff, that's what.

Overall, a nice collection of stories to keep you even hotter than usual this summer...

"The Weight" to be published in Best Bondage Erotica 2012

Lately I am trying to be lighter, physically and mentally. I'm working on getting to my goal weight and fitting (better) into this slinky tight tan dress I bought that's basically the same dress I have in gray but is tighter for whatever reason. Mentally, well, it's tough. Yesterday was a day of such highs and lows. I waved like a fool on the Staten Island Ferry looking for my friend, watched two little kids instantly bond over drawing, laughed over nothing with friends old and new, and went to my friend Cheryl's wake. I was okay...as long as I didn't walk by the big box with my friend's body inside it. I could admire the gigantic, bigger-than-I've-ever-seen flower displays. I even took a prayer card even though my thoughts on prayer are a bit muddled.

I'm working on purging both belongings and negative, unhelpful thoughts, along with the extra pounds, and talking to my friends and seeing how they each deal with their grief was telling. I don't think there's a right way or wrong way, and I teeter between being so outraged for Cheryl, that her life was cut short, and recognizing that my outage isn't going to bring her back. I can't feel light about her death, in any sense of the word, but I am honored to have known her and heartened to keep on seeing such an outpouring of support and love for her.

I will probably be working on this lightening that my whole life. So the fact that I wrote this story is both interesting and fitting. I'd say curious but to me it represents the way I think of BDSM when it works perfectly, which is like this yin and yang, people who have different urges, but urges that contrast perfectly in their extremity. Or what I think of as extremity; obviously that word means different things to different people. There are definitely things I've done I never thought I'd do and things I have and do think about that I'm not sure I'll ever do, and a lot of that comes out in fiction. "Foot and Mouth" you'll have to wait until next year for, but "The Weight" is going to be in Best Bondage Erotica 2012 and the part that is curious but also complimentary is that desire for weight on someone else, for the force of a body as a weapon.

I, like my protagonist, am much more partial to the human body as a tool than I am anything else when it comes to kinky play, and by "body" I mean both body parts but even more so the mind. In this excerpt you'll see that it's both this character, Damian, the narrator is so attuned to, but also the phrase his knee, the look on his face, his eyes. It's all of those body parts working in concert with both her and all that has come before. For me it's the kind of story I long to write, and am proud of, but couldn't do every day, just like I couldn't do anything like that every day. It's part of, maybe, my recovery process, my getting over someone who is seemingly ubiquitous, inescapable. Or maybe it's something else I'm not even aware of. But I'm looking forward to sharing this story with the world. It will close out my book, which should be in stores by Thanksgiving. I'm working on more food stories, lighter ones, ones that dance around their kinks, rather than dropping them on the reader so, well, heavily. I'm writing a story named after a Cyndi Lauper song now. But I also think that "lighter" is relative. We all have light and darkness inside us and for me lightness is a goal not at the expense of mental or emotional weight, but as a coping mechanism. Anyway, here is an excerpt from "The Weight." More bondage erotica excerpts closer to pub date! Much of the book, and my introduction explores this, features women tying up men, because that was what the majority of the submissions included, so I hope you femdom types will buy it. I think there is a wonderful mix of types of bondage and motivations for it, and I hope I'll get to keep on editing more bondage erotica because it's always an interesting process.

This is fiction, for sure, but the kind of fiction I sometimes think is more truthful than any essay I write could ever be.

From "The Weight" by me:

I don’t gulp in greedy deep breaths of air; that would be too obvious. I take the smallest breaths I can, savoring them, making do with what I can get, while I can. He rises just enough to turn me over, settling down again with his knee planted firmly against my pussy, so firmly it hurts a little. He’s not trying to make me wet, or make me like it. I know that much by now. He’s trying to simply tell me that even his knee owns me, that even his knee can make me do anything he demands.

It’s the look on his face that makes me shudder as surely as if someone zapped me. I can breathe a little now, but I can’t move, not really. He has me pinned, strapped in as surely as the fanciest of handcuffs. The shudder rises from my red-painted toenails on up. I tremble against him where his knee is greeting me, and he shifts so the pressure lands at my wrists, where he’s raised them above my head. At any moment he might shift both wrists into one meaty palm and tickle me, threatening my bladder, threatening my control.

I’m tempted to bite my lip, but I don’t. He’d only force them apart, force my mouth, like the rest of me, open, shove something, probably his fingers, many of them, inside. I’m not sure if I miss his weight yet, because I love how strong he is, how his strength brought to bear full bore demands an equal showing of strength from me. I look up at him, not sure which Damian I will see. Sometimes his hazel eyes are dark and stormy, and he’ll lean down and bite my lip, digging his teeth in, clamping down until I mewl to get away, and then giving me a few extra seconds of pain before rising and spitting into my mouth. Sometimes he’ll raise his hand so suddenly I hardly have time to be aware of what’s about to happen, then strike my cheek so hard my ears ring. Sometimes he shackles my arms above my head, to the cuffs secured to the headboard, and pinches my nose and mouth shut, holding them tighter and tighter until I start to truly thrash, and then he’ll let go of one hand, keeping the other in place. Like I said, I’m not into all the accoutrements of bondage, but I gladly give him my arms, and savor the tightness of a cuff or the sweetly deceptive smoothness of a silk scarf, even though he is my favorite sex toy of all.

Gay male erotica story "Sexathon" out now in Afternoon Pleasures anthology

My short story "Sexathon" is in the new anthology Afternoon Pleasures: Gay Erotica for Couples edited by Shane Allison. I don't have my copies yet, but I can share a little snippet of my story. Here's the first three paragraphs - if you like it, do check out the book!

I used to work the door at a lesbian sex party that was held in what was usually a gay male sex club, and that setting inspired this story, which is admittedly among my wackier ones, but I also think I was trying to get at the way a couple could feel kinship by fucking other people, by opening their relationship but sharing it. That’s also a theme I’m pursuing in another gay male erotica story I’m working on.

I was working on it right after I got dumped last May, right when I was going to visit my mom's house for the first time. Basically, a stressful time, but I was trying to capture something with the story. No clue if I succeeded, you can be the judge of that, but I'm always proud to have a new story published, all the more so when it's a gay male story. Now I have to get some of that writing mojo I've lost back and I'll be myself again.



Sexathon
by Rachel Kramer Bussel

When Doug told me he wanted to enter the sexathon at our local sex club, at first, I looked at him like he was crazy. We’ve been together for ten years, and in many ways it seems like a lifetime. I’m thirty-five and he’s twenty-nine and most of our friends look to us as a model couple, and maybe we are. I often joke that we’re like any old married couple--we tied the knot four years ago, finally--with each of us having our own spot on the couch, our pillow, our mug; in short, our places within our home. Yet we both welcome those niceties, those symbols that go far beyond the solid gold wedding rings we exchanged during the ceremony. And we’d been monogamous, save for a few random threesomes we’d taken part in, which had been hot--don’t get me wrong--but in general we were one-man men, focused on building our lives together, eager to share everything from sex to breakfast to road trips. The adventures we’d shared up until then, including traveling everywhere from Belize to Alaska, as well as being godparents to our friends’ son Peter, had only brought us closer together. We had our spats, sure, but I was certain that without Doug my life would be far worse off than the one we shared.

Doug explained that the club was having a fundraiser, but instead of a marathon or walkathon, it was a sexathon. You got points for everything from deep-throating a dildo to how far your ejaculation landed when you jerked off to how many partners you hooked up with, and people were suppoed to pledge a dollar or more for every point you earned. Condoms would be mandatory. When he told me about the points and prizes—a trip to Paris, a big-screen plasma TV—I knew there was no talking him out of it. The thing about my man, though you’d never know it unless you were in a specifically sporting situation with him, is that he’s incredibly competitive. Whether it’s doing crossword puzzles, guessing the answers on Jeopardy, playing bingo at our gay community center or even taking part in pickup softball, he plays to win.

“What about me?” I asked. I’m not insecure, but even the most solid long-term relationship can hit its rough spots. Was he having a midlife crisis? Did he regret not having more partners in his younger years? We’d discussed this, and not just when we first got together. Back then, we’d been youthful and idealistic, and while we were definitely falling in love with each other in those days, we were also in love with the idea of love. I thought the men who picked up a different trick every night were fools. Who’d want a new cock when you could have a man like Doug: tall, strapping, husky, hairy; who could be by turns savage (teeth and nails clawing at me), and tender (taking care of me in countless ways)? Not me. And those kisses! The kind that went on forever, that left me breathless, that seemed to come out of nowhere and for no reason--he’d stop me in the middle of a sentence just for the pleasure of sticking his tongue down my throat.

Publisher description:

Shane Allison presents bedtime reading for gay couples. Filled with romance, passion and lust, Afternoon Pleasures offers irresistible erotic fun while celebrating the coming together of souls as well as bodies. Two traveling husbears meet a willing twink in Jeff Mann's "One Afternoon in the Bible Belt." A sneaky environmentalist gets sandwiched between hedonistic mountain men in Bob Vickery's "Loggers." Two partners share a leisurely Sunday morning with scintillating surprises in Hank Edwards's "Breakfast in Bed." Rob Rosen's "Skyrockets in Flight" is particularly delicious with naughty bits in every line.

With contributed stories by Bob Vickery, Jonathan Asche, Pepper Espinoza, Jeff Mann, Gregory L. Norris, Jay Rogers, R.J. Bradshaw, Rob Rosen, Hank Edwards, Kyle Lukoff, Heidi Champa, Logan Zachary, D. Fostalove, Stephen Osborne, Nathan Burgoine, Rachel Kramer Bussel, and Shane Allison.

Violet Blue calls my "Espionage" "one of the most powerful stories I've ever read

Two very cool bits of news. First, editor Violet Blue has this to say about my second person story "Espionage" that she included in Best Women's Erotica 2011 (Cleis Press):

Not only famous in erotic writing, Rachel Kramer Bussel is an online media sensation. In one of the most powerful stories I’ve ever read, “Espionage” seems to pull from a very deep place to create a story I’ve returned to more than once. Here, we are the girl at the party who’s been having a torrid affair with the man of the house, seeing his wife for the first time as guests float in and out and finally mustering up the force to do something that dares him to be ours, even if just for that one intense moment that rips our fishnets.

Second is that I don't have my author copies yet, but I read that for free with my free sample I downloaded from the Kindle edition. Many Cleis Press anthologies, including my Peep Show, Bottoms Up, Fast Girls, Orgasmic, Smooth, Passion, Please, Sir, Please, Ma'am and Spanked (probably others too) now allow you to preview the book, reading the introdution and one story, sometimes part of a second. So check it out and read her sexy, ice cream-meltingly sweet and dripping and luscious introduction.



You can also order the paperback from Amazon or directly from Cleis Press.

Here's the start of my story "Espionage:"

You tuck your new pink and black coat, the one purchased earlier in the day just for this special evening, around your body, pull it tight like it’s cold out, except you’re indoors and the fire is roaring. You are cold, but it’s the kind of cold that can’t be heated by rubbing two sticks together or turning up the thermostat, the kind of cold that can only be vanquished once your heart catches up. Your heart is cautiously icy, watching and waiting; it isn’t safe to let it melt just yet.

Instead, you look—you could say spy, except you have an invitation, an elaborate listing of reasons this will be the party to end all parties, delivered right to your inbox. You’ve been promised bubble baths, servants, champagne, s’mores, drugs, debauchery. Those things intrigue you, sure, since you’re used to zoning out in front of the tv, quiet dinner parties, wholesome events like comedy shows and trivia nights, but you’d have shown up for gin rummy if it were held right here, in these rooms that hold a life that will never be yours, a life you’ve been given glimpses of but never truly peeked inside. Even better than any promise of party pampering, you’ve been granted access to this sacred space, this love shack you’ve up til now only imagined vividly. This is your chance to enter the inner sanctum, and you cling to it in the same way you hold your coat, and your heart—close. Still, despite the tacit permission, you feel like a spy, an Anaïs Nin emissary, as you walk through the rooms that make up their home, their urban house of love and lust and lasciviousness, a house you will never inhabit no matter how many times you fuck the master of it.

And while I don't necessarily "set out" to write bisexual protagonists, bisexuality weaves its way into many of my stories. In part, it's because I'm bi, and in part, it's because in erotica it adds all sorts of nuances and intrigues—you can definitely have those without it, but I like mixing things up.

You feel his eyes follow you around the room, feel his palms sweat as you tilt your head back and let the journalist whose byline you’ve read countless times tilt your head against her breast and slide her red lipstick over your lips, painting them as if she were making love to you. In a way, maybe she is, her fingers crushing your jaw, the not-quite-liquid, not-quite-solid of the waxy ruby pressing hard against your hips, hard the way he used to crush them, hard the way you like it.

She laughs an almost evil laugh that makes you wonder what else she could do with the lipstick, and feel a frisson of static pass from her small, bony hands into your cheeks when she pinches them, inspecting her work. You wonder, of course, if he’s fucked her, even though it shouldn’t really matter. Lots of things that shouldn’t matter take up space in your mind, fragments of jealousy on permanent repeat. You pucker up just to give your lips something to do, someone to make contact with who is not him. Her tongue traces the red, teases, darts but doesn’t claim you as her wicked laugh did. You let her know, with your lips, that she could have you, but she simply pulls back and smiles, her nails digging into your upper arm. Suddenly you want to pull her bleached blonde hair, tug hard until she can’t even make a sound, the feral domme inside of you wicking at your insides, aching to be let out for a moment. Instead you just smile wide and she slinks away to find another victim.

After, you think the lipstick will be smeared—that’s only right, isn’t it, after someone’s just fucked you with a tube from Mac?—but instead, it’s perfect. Redder than red, redder than you’d ever dare in your daily life. Fancy that. They should put that in an ad campaign. You go back to your spying-cum-ogling, your lips now signaling that you are the hussy you know yourself to be, the other woman come seeking vengeance, seeking something you will never have because it belongs to someone else.

Read the whole story in Best Women's Erotica 2011.

Fast Girls excerpt: "Communal" by Saskia Walker

I'm taking this excerpt from "Communal" by Saskia Walker, published in Fast Girls: Erotica for Women (click to read the introduction and table of contents - other authors include Tristan Taormino and Kayla Perrin), from her blog.

I vow that I will be as decadent and liberated in my sexuality as she is.

Kirstie Jefferies made this vow while she listened to another woman reaching orgasm. She was standing outside the communal shower in her university hall of residence, transfixed. She’d been about to return to her room and come back for her shower later, but the sound was so incredibly sexy that she had been forced to stay and listen, her own sense of sexual need rising all the while. Steam billowed over the top of the shower cubicle door and — with it — the sound of another deeply pleasured female moan. Her entire skin prickled, her pussy instantly slick.

A moment later she heard a male voice whispering encouragement. There were two of them in there. Who was the woman? Whoever it was hadn’t wasted any time getting laid. It was the third day of the new term. Kirstie smiled to herself—this was part of what she’d come to University for, liberation of the sexual kind.

“Oh, yeah, you’re so tight,” the man said. “I’m almost there.”

The woman gave a breathless grunt in response. The sound of it sent a shiver of need through Kirstie. Her pussy ached to have that kind of attention and she was getting more aroused by the moment. Female laughter bubbled up inside the cubicle, and then morphed again into intense moaning.

Kirstie’s body responded, identifying on a deep, innate level with the other woman’s orgasm. She was absurdly aroused, trapped there by her need to relate, her need to be that woman. Shifting from one foot to the other, she lifted her hair from the back of her neck, where the skin was feverishly hot. Her sex clenched repeatedly. She brushed her hands over her robe, touching her aching breasts through the fabric.

Inside the cubicle the woman began to pant. She’d reached climax. It was such a turn on that Kirstie couldn’t help herself. She slipped her hand inside her robe to cup and squeeze her pussy in her hand, massaging her clit until it thrummed and slick juices spread half way down her thighs.

Then the man let out a deep, animalistic sound, and Kirstie knew he had come as well. She worked her hand, rubbing her clit until she, too, reached orgasm. Waves of pleasure washed over her. Dropping her head back against the wall, she closed her eyes for a moment to regain her composure, and then straightened her robe.

The couple eventually emerged.

Kirstie stared at the door as it opened, dying to know who they were.

It was Doug, a big beefy blond American anthropology student. The woman he’d been ramming up against the slippery tiles was Teresa, a pretty French student with dyed red hair and tribal tattoos on both arms. The big American guy winked at her as they passed. Did they know that she could hear them? Would they guess that she was aroused, and that she’d been touching herself while she listened to them? She smiled at them, admiringly. Doug looked back and grinned, and Teresa winked at her, too. Whoa, that made her even hotter.

“Hey Kirstie,” Teresa said, and left the shower door open. She had a knowing look in her eyes and a wickedly suggestive smile. “It’s all yours.”

Kirstie thanked her, then darted into the cubicle and drove the bolt home. The way Teresa had looked at her, almost as if she was identifying, made her feel even more horny. When she stepped into the shower after them she felt them even closer around her. It wasn’t just hearing Teresa have sex and wanting to be in her shoes that made her so hot. There in the shower, the sounds haunted her. Looking up she saw that the showerhead had been twisted half off the wall. She pictured the French woman with her hands wrapped around the jutting fixture, reveling in her sexual freedom, her body pivoting from it as the American worked his erect cock into her under the flowing water.

Kirstie’s body burned up all over again with the idea of it. Under the powerful sluice of the water the event played over in her mind and as it did it was with a sudden, breathless realization that she became aware of all the sex that might have gone on in the cubicle over the years, all the women who had found their way to freedom in here. She closed her eyes, almost hearing the whispered voices of the others who had been in here, touching each other, sharing the heat, or stroking their own bodies under the shower. How many orgasms had happened here?

“Hundreds,” she whispered to herself. Hundreds of people getting dirty while they were supposed to be getting clean. The rapidly splashing water was a burbling chuckle that only seemed to confirm her thoughts. A moan of frustration escaped her lips...



Order Fast Girls: Erotica for Women from:

Amazon.com

Kindle edition

Bn.com

Borders

Powell's

IndieBound

Cleis Press

Want a FREE Fast Girls postcard? Email your US mailing address with "Postcard" in the subject line to fastgirlsantho at gmail.com - the book trailer will premiere at the end of July, just in time for August's virtual book tour. We still need bloggers for the tour; if you have a blog and are willing to be part of the tour (you get a free book and you do one post during Auguts about it), email fastgirlsantho at gmail.com with "Virtual tour" in the subject and your URL and US mailing address (you can be outside the US and do it too but I can only afford to mail books to US addresses).