I just saw a chart in a foodie magazine showing how July is the high season for almost every stone fruit and berry: peaches, nectarines, apricots, cherries, blueberries, raspberries, blackberries, not to mention melons like cantaloupe, orange flesh honeydew, galia, sharlyn.... This time the press is not lying, I'm literally moaning with delight at the bounty of tempting, fragrant fruits on my kitchen counter today (I hate refrigerating fruit if I can help it 'cause it seriously destroys the ripe flavor). I don't think of myself as religious in any way, but I will agree with a man I overheard at the Farmer's Market: "When I bite into an Arctic Jay nectarine, I know there is a God."What does this have to do with spanking? Well, the latest treat in my ripe, juicy, bursting-sweet literary July just arrived in my mailbox, Bottoms Up: Spanking Good Stories, edited by the empress of the spanking genre, Rachel Kramer Bussel. The anthology is full of delicious stories by Craig Sorensen, Gwen Masters, Stan Kent, Sommer Marsden, and Alison Tyler, and of course, yours truly. In fact, I start off the anthology, I'd guess because my story is about a couple's very first spanking. Although the woman doesn't know it yet. You'll have to read the story to find out what I mean!
I also wanted to announce a very special promotion involving Bottoms Up. If you purchase the book from Amazon this coming Monday, July 27, and send your receipt to Rachel (spankingantho at gmail dot com), you'll be eligible for a chance to win your own paddle (up to a $60 value and you get to choose from what's available on Amazon) and a complete library of Rachel's spanking books. I'm going to be doing my Christmas shopping early, so see you over at Amazon on Monday! Check out the guidelines for Bottoms Up Spike Day right here.
If you're wondering about the visual aid above--although you probably have a reasonable idea of why I might choose it to illustrate a post on spanking--I had my house photographer take this to show the lovely Emerald my school girl outfit. Make that my naughty school girl outfit. Guess the name of my school in the comments below and I'll send you the full text of my story "A Thousand Words" (actually 2600 words, but who's counting?). Actually, I'm not really doing a contest, I'm just curious to see what names you creative people will come up with....
Speaking of which, it's time for an excerpt from the aforementioned story. It's told from the male POV, always a forbidden pleasure and challenge for me. Enjoy!
From "A Thousand Words" by Donna George Storey:
Tamara once told him anger was a message, a sign you should change something in your life. She was always reading those get-in-touch-with-your-inner-self books, but what she said made sense this time. Maybe this week’s separation was a good thing, a chance to breathe. In the last three months they’d gotten so close, they were practically welded together.
His dick seemed to agree, for now it drooped lazily against his groin. With a shrug he got up, undressed, brushed his teeth. He’d make a point of putting Tamara out of his mind for the next few days, get a little space in his life. If she wanted to talk, she could call him.
Braced by his new indifference, he pulled down the covers, got into bed and reached over to switch off the light.
He paused, his hand floating above the nightstand. There it was again—that picture of Tamara’s ass.
And it was one hell of an ass, too.
He picked up the photograph, his eyes fixed on the rich curves of her hips. The silky fabric of the panties shimmered, the paper itself seemed to soften in his hands. The real Tamara might be off at a club, flirting with some guy named Ryan, but he had her best asset right here in bed with him.
What the fuck, jerking off always made him sleep better anyway.
Still staring at the picture, he slipped imaginary fingers under the elastic and slowly peeled the panties down, inch by inch. The black silk receded to reveal Tamara’s creamy flesh, the shadow of another female furrow. He’d licked her there, for the first time, last night. His tongue prickled with the memory of the flavor, spicy, exotic, forbidden.
He closed his fist around his cock and began to tug.
Meanwhile his other set of hands pulled the panties all the way down to her knees and over her ankles off the edge of the picture, where they fell in a heap on the floor. He squinted at the picture. Tamara was completely naked now, just the way he liked her. Then, to his surprise, her hips began to undulate, beckoning. He could even smell her fragrance, yeast and warmth, like walking past a bakery in the morning.
He was good at this.
A picture might be worth a thousand words, but what about a movie? It was time for action. In another blink, he grabbed Tamara’s hips and coaxed her up on her knees. He had to pause for a moment to admire that view: her magnificent posterior tapering into a slim waist, curving out again to her smooth shoulders. Her back was flushed now. She panted softly. And although she said not a word, he could hear the question swirling in her head.
What are you going to do to me now?
What indeed?....
So, that's your excerpt, and I stop just at the place where it starts getting harder and hotter! Now reading through this bit again, I was reminded that back in my days of wasting time at the Zoetrope writer's workshop rather than here in Blogland, a very confident gentleman critic told me, among other things meant to correct my numerous literary flaws, that the expression "rich curves" (which I used in "Blinded") was really stupid. Because how could "curves" be "rich"? I guess we could ask models and porn stars and race car drivers, but strictly speaking he is right that the particular adjective is not commonly used with that noun. But clearly I did not internalize his advice, even all these years later. I'm glad.
Still, I'd say Bottoms Up is a very rich anthology. If you're into "rough caresses" or just curious, I recommend you give it a read, preferably bent over your bed in a school girl's skirt, ass high in the air!
