Stories of O: Orgasmic Erotica, edited by Alex Algren. The anthology includes works by Saskia Walker, Kristina Wright, A.D.R. Foret, Sinclair Sexsmith, Thomas Roche and yours truly. If you can’t resist—and why would anyone turn down orgasmic erotica?—Cleis is offering a special two-for-one bonus, buy the book, get another free!
My story, “The Big O,” is about a woman whose lover is away on a six-week meditation retreat. To while away the time, she decides to follow the “Sexercise Prescription” program that she discovered in a women’s magazine. The program promises to tone her sex muscles and improve orgasmic pleasure for both herself and her lover. I can’t resist a spoiler—it works!
I always have a lot of fun writing my erotic stories because I like to play around with our culture’s attitudes about sex, in this case the obsession with sex advice in women’s magazines. But the advice is not always obvious or silly. Unfortunately even in this more enlightened age, women especially are still conditioned to see an orgasm as something a lover “gives” you. Sure you can take charge when you’re alone, but with a partner his skill is what takes you over the top.
I’m glad to say I discovered, with the help of sex advice books over the years, that both women and men have a lot more fun in bed if they take charge of their own pleasure and their own orgasms. Figuring out what works for you, then sharing it with your partner, is crucial part of mutual satisfaction. My protagonist in the “The Big O” learns that the process of discovery can be just as enjoyable as the grand finale.
Here’s a brief excerpt from the story to give you a taste:
"I wouldn’t exactly call it an addiction. Let’s just say the Sexercise Prescription was one workout routine I had no trouble fitting into my busy schedule. In fact, as suggested, I did the official three-part series on my way to work and even squeezed in a few during boring meetings. But I always waited until I got home to do the fourth part of the series.
After a few weeks, I’d settled in a very pleasurable routine. First I stripped naked and knelt in the middle of the futon. After I warmed myself up with a set of exercises, I’d close my eyes and take a deep breath.
Suddenly, I was no longer alone in my bedroom.
Instead I’m in a mirrored dance studio, with a dozen students kneeling in a circle around me, all eager to become strong inside just like me. They are all nude, too, and I take a moment to admire their beauty. Some have enviably curvy figures—lush hips and full bosoms that beg to be weighed in my hands. Others are boyish with high, tight buttocks and perky breasts. The diversity of grooming habits catches my attention, too. A few wax themselves bare, while others trim their pubic hair in fanciful heart shapes. One earth mother sports a luxuriant bush of curls I long to comb with my fingers. I know it’s unprofessional to stare, but their nipples are my weakness, lined up before me like a buffet. I imagine sucking the dainty raspberry bonbons of one student, then tonguing the generous mocha-colored demitasse saucers of her neighbor.
Discreetly swallowing down the drool, I lead the class efficiently through the warm-up exercises: slow squeezes, butterfly wings and the elevator.
Squeeze and hold, ladies, squeeze and hold.
By the end our bodies are glistening with sweat, our eyes glow with delicious exertion. Smiling, I announce a special reward for their hard work—a guest instructor who will help them get in touch with a new level of inner strength.
Adam steps from behind the folding screen in the corner, flourishing his magic brush. He takes his place before the first student, a small woman whose pale skin flushes when she’s aroused. Now her chest is covered in tell tale splotches of pink.
Gently I instruct her to lie back and spread her legs for the new teacher.
Brow furrowed in concentration, Adam leans forward and inserts his brush delicately into her vagina. When he touches the tip to her inner labia, she moans.
'Let’s breathe with her and be one with the sensation,' I urge my other students, who stare with gaping mouths, transfixed by the intimate performance before them.
And so we all breathe together, our own pussies clenching in sympathy, as Adam traces the timeless circle of her flesh. Yet, again, right before he reaches her clitoris, he stops.
Her eyes shoot open in dismay, but before she can protest, she climaxes, with a dainty, 'oh, oh, oh.'
The next student in line immediately lies back without prompting. This lusty woman bellows when she comes. Some of the students are now rubbing themselves as they watch. In this manner, Adam works his way around the circle, stroking each woman to ecstasy with his artist’s touch.
Of course, he saves me for last'
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