Sexy, Secret Gardens

You all remember those sizzling Nancy Friday "studies" of female sexual fantasies back in the 1970's that blew the cover off of the Victorian myth that women were sexless creatures who only engaged in the marital act out of their innate maternal instinct? They certainly inspired me to get wilder in my daydreams and ultimately to write my own fantasies out for publication throughout the Anglophone world.

Thank you, Nancy!

Today at The Erotic Woman, a totally awesome erotica website, you can read my tribute to Nancy Friday fantasies which I've entitled "Secret Gardens." Some of it may be familiar from an earlier blog post on Nancy and her revolutionary books (plus the lie behind them, but all's fair in love and war!) But there's a second part to Pittsburgh housewife Jessica's fantasies that's much hotter, so click on over and vote and comment--if you can type with one hand ;-). What better way to start the weekend than with a reminder our minds our always free to weave a beautiful tapestry of desire?

Conversing with Your Hips

Life slows down in the summer, but this month has been pretty hot on the short story front. Some new ones written, some finished ones accepted for publication, and the sweetest treat of all, a few old favorites released to a wider audience online. Today my story "Yes, Master" appears at The Erotic Woman, a fantastic erotica site that frequently publishes all my favorite writers like Craig Sorensen, Emerald, Heidi Champa, Jeremy Edwards, Susan DiPlacido, and more, baby.

"Yes, Master" originally appeared in print in Pleasure Bound, edited by Alison Tyler, and I spoke a bit about the allure of genie power when the story made its debut. Today I wanted to share an excerpt that contains my secret favorite part of the story. I always have a special little sensitive spot in each story that is not the most sexually explicit area (usually), but that nonetheless expresses a truth about my experience. In this story, the truth has to do with missionary position sex, more specifically, how I came to appreciate the potential of this symbolically fraught variation of amour.

Hmm, maybe this is too much information, but back in my dewy youth, woman-on-top sex was an immediate favorite with me because I could control things: the angle, the pace, well, everything. When I was on the bottom, the parts didn't naturally fit together as well and so I came to think of it as a "for him" part of the experience. I didn't even really try to make it work for me. But then, one day--or was it a night?--during a slow, leisurely, summer-style encounter, I started working it from the bottom the way I liked it. My partner (you can probably guess who that is, but I'm trying to be discreet here) responded in kind and it became a kind of conversation, just as I describe below. When you talk and listen with sensitivity--with ears, lips, and other parts of the body, too--you can learn some very interesting things.

So here's my secret favorite part of the story--but please don't tell anyone! And you can check out the rest of the conversation at The Erotic Woman (vote and comment, if you're so inspired!)

An Excerpt from "Yes, Master":

It might look like I fucked Tony Rossi from Product Development on our first date, but it was more complicated than that. We’d been having lunch together for months and flirted pretty heavily through several happy hours when he finally asked me out on an “official” date to see a play in late October. We had such a good time we ended the evening naked in his bed—no surprise for two people who’ve been attracted to each other for some time. Except for one thing.

After we were both hot and ready, Tony rolled on top of me, and I thought, okay, I’ll endure this for a while and then show him how I can actually get off. But as he started moving this way and that, it actually started to feel…good. Very good. It’s as if we were having this little conversation with our hips. He’d ask a question, slowly, teasingly. I’d reply with all the right answers, and damn if it wasn’t feeling better and better as our lower regions discovered all sorts of things about each other. Until, surprise of all surprises, I was coming, just from old-fashioned missionary-style fucking alone.

I had to see if it was a one-time fluke, so after a reasonable breather, I pulled Tony on top of me again.

Ten condoms and a half-dozen positions later, it was Sunday afternoon and we still hadn’t gotten out of bed except to make some coffee and pay the pizza delivery guy. Tony seemed as enchanted as I was.

Unfortunately, reality intervened and he told me he had an early flight on Monday and would be in Pasadena all week on business. However he was anxious to know if I was free the following Saturday.

“Sorry, I’m going to Dana’s Halloween party. You know Dana in Marketing, right?” Smitten as I was, I had a strict policy not to stiff my women friends for any guy.

“I was invited, but I was going to blow it off.” He smiled. “Do you have your costume yet?"

“I’m going as Jeannie, you know, from that old TV show.” I sat up, folded my arms and did my best imitation of a Jeannie nod. “Yes, Master, you called?” I gave Tony a look that promised everything. “Sure you can’t make it?”

His eyes twinkled. “I’ll be there.”

Watch Me Take it All Off at the Erotic Woman!

Hey, not only is it Friday, but it's a very special Friday today because I have a new story up at The Erotic Woman--one of my very favorite erotica salons! It's called "All Eyes Upon Her" and includes some of my favorite steamy themes: the sexy superstar of the mid-twentieth century, Sally Rand; handsome historians in tuxedos; long, slow seductions and quick, wet finales.

It's always an especially delicious pleasure to appear at The Erotic Woman, not only because they publish all of my favorite writers such as Heidi Champa, Susan DiPlacido, Jeremy Edwards, Emerald, and Craig Sorensen, but they are a class act all the way. And the comments left so far have left me breathless with delight. So, if you're in the mood for the sweet ache of the tease, check out my story--and do leave a comment if you're so inspired.

(This story originally appeared in print only as part of the erotica-for-charity anthology, Ultimate Burlesque, which is full of many other sinuously sexy tales).

Steamy Inspiration from a Famous Japanese Inn

Jeremy Edwards got us started off right yesterday with his very naughty postcards, but I've got an amazing line-up of wonderful writers who are going to give up a peep into some hot-el action over the next two weeks. Thank you, everyone, for stopping by suite 69!

Ah, I see the sushi platter I ordered has arrived, so please help yourselves--it goes great with champagne--while I sift through some old postcards of my own to celebrate the publication of Do Not Disturb: Hotel Sex Stories, edited by Rachel Kramer Bussel.

For my money, the traditional Japanese inn provides the ultimate hotel experience. More than a place to spend the night, it offers a complete escape from the restraints of everyday life, inviting sensual indulgence of every kind. The moment you arrive, you shed your clothes for a soft cotton robe that allows for free and easy movement. The first order of enjoyment is always a nice long soak in the inn’s large bath, followed by a feast of a dinner, more bathing and then, depending on your company, a feast of another sort on the thick, soft futons.
I’ve stayed in many delightful inns throughout Japan, but one particular place stands above the rest. The beautiful Chojukan at Hoshi Onsen has hosted famous writers, including Nobel Prize Winner Kawabata Yasunari, whose photograph takes a place of honor in the lobby. I’m sure the management is not aware they’ve hosted another far humbler writer who draws apparently constant inspiration from their mountain hostel. For indeed the beautiful nineteenth century bath at Chojukan inspired at least five erotic stories: “Hot Spring,” my Pushcart Special Mention story; “Spring Pictures” in the Mammoth Book of Best New Erotica 4, “Wet” in Best Women’s Erotica 2008, a Playboy Cyberclub story that I’ve sold all rights to forever throughout the universe, and the scene in Amorous Woman where Lydia has an enlightening encounter with an anthropology professor in the very same steamy water.

Here’s how I describe the setting in my novel: The soaring cross-beamed ceiling, glowing pedestal lanterns, and swimming pool-sized cedar tub brought to mind the cathedral of a cult that worshipped both purity and indulgence.

Perhaps one day, Chojukan will post these words in their lobby, but until then here’s a purely indulgent snippet from “Wet.” In this scene, the American narrator, a fan of Japanese-style ablutions and fantasies involving the same, tricks her Japanese boyfriend into an impromptu lesson after midnight by the glowing lamplight of Chojukan’s grand co-ed bath.

From "Wet" (read the entire story at The Erotic Woman):

I think that’s when he finally got it, because in two long strides he was at my side, grabbing my arm and hauling me back to the faucet. With a downward tug, he forced me to my knees. He quickly filled the wooden basin with steaming water and splashed it over my chest and shoulders. I cried out softly. Kneeling behind me, he wrapped his arms around me, but it was more a punishment than an embrace.

I don’t think I’d ever been so turned on in my life.

“I will wash you now,” he whispered.

“Yes. Teach me how. I’m dirty,” I confessed in a low voice. “My breasts, they’re very dirty. Maybe you have to scrub hard.”

“Is that so?” There was no doubt now he’d caught on to the game. “Why are they so dirty?”

“I let a man kiss them and suck them.”

“Yes, then I think you are very dirty.” He took the bar of soap and began to rub the flat side over my nipples. Pin-pricks of pleasure shot straight to my pussy. A beguiling combination of smooth and hard, it was even better than my fantasy.

“What about between your legs?” he murmured.

“Yes. It’s very dirty. I let a man…take me…from behind.”

“That is dirty. Like an animal. I must clean you there very well.” He picked up the washcloth, draped it over his fingers and pressed it between my pussy lips. His movements were subtle--firm, slow circles over my clit--but the flesh there was already swollen and sore from the earlier fucking. I had to grit my teeth to bear it, but I also found myself pushing into his hand with small rocking motions to intensify the sensation.

“Spread your legs a little. Now we will rinse.” He took a basin of steaming water and splashed it vigorously over my slit. It streamed down my thighs, mingling with my juices. My cunt was on fire, my skin a throbbing scarlet hue. When I imagined how it would go, I was hoping this part would last an hour, but now I wanted him inside me so badly I was shaking.

(It goes on from there, but sometimes not getting exactly what you want can be...exactly what you want!)

Tomorrow--a sneak preview of Craig Sorensen's novel....

Swept Away By Emerald

“What moves you?” So begins “No Such Thing,” the lovely Emerald’s latest publication at one of my very favorite erotica sites, The Erotic Woman. Emerald had mentioned that this story had special meaning to her—and believe me, there’s no better story foreplay for me! I suspect I may have been even more anxious than the author herself to see the story up on the site.

Now, I like to think my work moves readers in some way or another. On the most basic level, I’d like to think it “works,” that is, passes the zipper test or the wet test, depending on what you’re wearing. I also entertain fantasies that my stories make people think about sex and the human condition. But I don’t usually dare to hope that my writing will make it as far as the highest and most difficult rung on the literary ladder—that it will touch them emotionally.

This is precisely what “No Such Thing” achieves. Yes, it is lusciously poetic and arousing. It definitely makes you think about sexuality and repression and the human spirit. But it left me with much more, a certain easing of the breathe, an almost floating sense of peace—perhaps I’d best describe it as a literary afterglow?

Okay, I just have to give you one tiny “amuse-bouche” from the story, words that capture my own feelings in such moving rhythms:

Sex. Sex was what moved her. Not just the act, but the pure, profound, inherent power of sexuality, that force which encompassed the deepest realms of humanity, spanned the spectrum of life and held within it every possibility of human existence. Sex was life force embodied; it was strength, it was beauty, it was joy, it was….

Well, I don’t want to give the ending away! Go read this story. You’ll be swept away.

Wanna Get Wet?

I love The Erotic Woman! It’s a smart, sexy site that features some of my very favorite writers like Susan DiPlacido, Jeremy Edwards, and Gwen Masters.

I love the photos, too. They’re geared to the female sensibility somehow. And the editors are fabulously fine to work with--it's always a true pleasure.

Best of all, they’ve just featured an illustrated version of my Best Women’s Erotica 2008 story, “Wet.” You may know that bathing is an important ritual in Japan, but you probably had no idea how very wet you can get!

Check it out and leave a comment if you’re so inspired! For my erotica writer friends (you know who you are and you know I love you!), send them a story and join a very happy club….

The Erotic Woman!

December has been so crazy busy for me, and I haven't even started on my cookie-baking spree yet! But all kinds of sweet things are happening and one wonderful surprise is the publication of one of my favorite stories, "Suit and Tie," online at the super-spicy female-friendly site The Erotic Woman. I love the photo they chose for the illustration--it's perfect for the story! Read it and you'll see just what I mean.... And I really like the quality of the comments, too. I hope to make more appearances on this site in the future. It's a great big heaping bowl of eye candy, not to mention I'm in the company of some of my favorite writers. Also check out Gwen Masters' fabulous story "Indiana Jones, with Camera."

Happy erotica reading!