Sex, Humor and Oysters

By Sacchi Green

My story for Coming Together is in Coming Together: At Last, Volume 2, with a multi-racial theme. Amnesty International gets the proceeds from this anthology. “Seafood Cocktail” was written quite a while ago (before my muse turned almost entirely toward the Sapphic side of the Force) and appeared originally in Wet: More Aqua Erotica, edited by Mary Ann Mohanraj.

Writing this particular story was almost as much fun as watching people’s reactions when I’ve read it aloud. Humor and sex may seem to make strange bedfellows, but who doesn’t enjoy a strange bedfellow now and then? I even got an offer from a “book packager” on the basis of this story, but what they wanted me to write was a humorous kinky book (because they’d decided Kinky was in fashion) using their own exact plot and structure and characters and a corporate setting, all of which were so completely stupid and trite and clueless, especially regarding BDSM, that I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Just as well, since that outfit later got into big legal trouble over plagiarism.

The above-mentioned muse has led me not only into writing erotica, but editing, as well, which is one of the reasons (not good enough, I know) that I haven’t contributed more to these wonderful Coming Together anthologies. Fortunately, many better and more prolific writers than I have managed it, and I hope to do better in the future. This is a great cause, providing great reads, and I’m glad to have even a small part in it.

As an added attraction (I hope) to this blog bash, I’m offering a free book drawing for the winner’s choice of any one of the anthologies I’ve edited for Cleis Press, or the collection of my own work from Lethe Press. Just comment here, and I’ll draw a name from among you at the end of the month. I’ll announce the winner on my Facebook page and my own blog (see my bio below.)

Here’s the list you get to choose from:

Girl Crazy: Coming Out Erotica (Cleis Press)

Lesbian Cowboys: Erotic Adventures (Cleis Press)

Lesbian Lust: Erotic Stories (Cleis Press)

Lesbian Cops: Erotic Investigations (Cleis Press)

Girl Fever: 69 Stories of Sudden Sex for Lesbians (Cleis Press, due out in June.)

A Ride to Remember (Lethe Press) (a collection of my own work)

Now we get to the fun part. Here’s my excerpt from “Seafood Cocktail,” just about the middle half of the story. Max, whose skin, when wet, gleams “like polished rosewood,” and light-skinned Lexie, have been genuinely marooned on an island by a storm while filming the survivor-type “reality” show “Marooned!”

…

I swam out until the water was smooth enough for me to float on my back. Images of last night’s chaotic storm coiled into and out of each other, like oil on the surface of a whirlpool. The one clear memory was a sexual current intensified by fear. Max and I had huddled through the night under our overturned boat, bodies pressed so tightly together that our clothes, saturated with rain and sweat and seawater, were no barrier to the pounding of each other’s heart.

But Max, in spite of the arousal his wet jeans did little to conceal, had done nothing to take it any further,

I had a pretty good idea why. He had witnessed my girlfriend Tonya’s explicitly steamy farewell at the plane and drawn the obvious conclusion. Tonya had known perfectly well that potential sex was written between the lines of the contract, and she’d still pressured me to sign it. If I could get a bit of notoriety, she figured, we’d have a better chance of getting backers for our films.

Last night, though, while the pounding rain made our shelter into an impenetrable cave, Max’s arms around me and mine around him had seemed absolutely right. The lightning flashes outside had built an electric tension deep inside me until I’d been at the point of of jumping him myself—when he’d started snoring.

Men! But he’d saved my life more than once in the last few hours, Maybe even a time or two more than I’d saved his. Instead of interrupting his exhausted sleep, I’d amused myself with working my hand gently, gently between jeans and skin and teasing his heavy balls and straining cock just lightly enough to make him writhe and groan in his dreams until, ultimately, his pants were soaked with something thicker and sweeter than sea water. All without waking up.

Now I drifted onward in the lagoon, savoring a gentler tension. Unless Max had more reason for resistance than figuring me for a hard-core dyke, being marooned was going to get very interesting, very soon. I swung upright, my toes just touching the sandy bottom. I’d floated close to a tiny islet in the center of the lagoon.

A maze of underwater rocks suggested mysterious, lurking creatures, maybe octopi. I could see, too close to pass up, clusters of what I was pretty sure were oysters. I wished I had pockets; my built-in ones winced at the thought of rough oyster shells, but I dived and grasped a large one in each hand.

Back on the beach I loped up the slope to where Max knelt. He was piling palm fronds under a lean-to built with the boat and some pieces of driftwood.

“Hey Max,” I called as I ran. He turned and got the maximum benefit of my jiggling breasts. It wasn’t wasted on him.

“What’s up?” he said, and turned quickly back. I resisted commenting on the obvious.

“I found an oyster bed out there. Might be a little hard to get down without lemon or Tabasco, but better than starving. And better than the rats they’re eating back at the base.” I tossed my prizes onto the sand.

“I guess,” he said, clearly not really focused on eating of that kind.

I pressed my thigh against his shoulder. “I don’t suppose we’ll be here long enough to starve, anyway. But there are things I’d really, really like to fit in while we’re still here. Alone.”

He’d pulled his shorts back on, but not his shirt. I leaned on his broad back and nuzzled his neck. He knelt, unmoving, supporting my weight, until I began chewing lightly on his muscular shoulders. “Did you know that oysters can switch their sex?” I murmured against his rigid jaw.

“Lexie,” he said, his deep voice getting even deeper, “What do you think you’re doing?”

“If you can’t tell, I must not be doing it right.” I brushed my hardening nipples across his back.

“But I thought…”

“I know what you thought. And I know what you’re thinking now. Drives you crazy, doesn’t it, envisioning what women do with each other.” I reached around to flick his nipples. The sprang to attention. An interesting effect on hard muscle instead of soft curves.

“If it didn’t before, it does now,” he muttered. I worked one hand down inside his jeans, over the bunched muscles of his buttocks and then in between. Suddenly he twisted under me and ended up on his back with me astride. “Damn it, Lexie, you’d better be going somewhere with this!”

There’s something about a deep, deep masculine voice. A woman’s voice can stroke like a warm, wet tongue, but Max’s voice set up reverberations that seemed to liquefy my bones.

“Trust me,” I said. “I never met an erogenous zone I couldn’t appreciate.” I rode the huge bulge in his pants, appreciating the hell out of it. “Check me out, if you need proof.” I lifted myself just enough for his hand to test my natural lube. His digital enthusiasm was touching, if a bit clumsy, but I pursued other interests, sliding backward until I had his zipper far enough open to insert two fingers, then slowly, slowly widening the gap until my whole hand curved around his hot, hard cock, still trapped by the pressure of his belt.

His hips rose, his hands scrabbled at the belt buckle, and I caught the tip of his cock in my mouth as it jerked free. I savored it with just enough in-out action to keep him breathing hard without rushing things. Then I hitched my body along until my knees clutched his hips. My own hips moved as my cunt lips slid back and forth over his swollen, eager cock. Too bad, I thought, that our sense of taste is limited to the mouths we eat with. And a taste was all I was going to get.

“Max,” I said, “you wouldn’t happen to know what the Swiss Family Robinson used for condoms, would you?”

“No, damnit,” he said. “They must have cut that part from the movie to get a “G” rating.”

“Don’t worry.” I played him with my hand, stroking from the root of his balls all the way up along his shaft. “Just lie back and let me run this fuck.”

“You’re the boss,” he said, his voice rising into a gasp. I had pressed my knuckle firmly below his scrotum and was working my thumb back toward his asshole.

“I’ll bet you’d like something really kinky,” I teased, “to tell your grandchildren.”

“I’ll bet you have inside information,” he said, not too steadily, “about what Robinson Crusoe used for sex toys!”

“Is that a challenge?” I watched a gleaming pearl of pre-cum form at the slit in his cock. “If so, I accept.” I yanked the belt from his shorts; he lifted his head in alarm. His expression went from apprehension to horrified awe as I leaned over to grab an oyster.

…

[That’s when things really turn kinky. Wouldn’t you like to know more?]

Bio: Sacchi Green is a Lambda award-winning writer and editor of erotica and other stimulating genres, which has led to a thigh-high accumulation of contributor’s copies with quite inspirational covers.

Her home is in western Massachusetts, with an alternate retreat in the mountains of New Hampshire. She does make forays into the real world regularly and widely, but her wildest journeys are taken in her mind, and she loves to share them with her readers.

Sacchi’s stories have appeared in scores of publications, including seven volumes of Best Lesbian Erotica, four of Best Women’s Erotica, three of Best Lesbian Romance, Best Transgender Erotica, Best Fantasy Erotica, and Penthouse. In recent years she’s taken to wielding the editorial whip, editing or co-editing seven lesbian erotica anthologies: Rode Hard, Put Away Wet (Suspect Thoughts Press); Hard Road, Easy Riding (Lethe Press); Lipstick on Her Collar (Pretty Things Press), and Lesbian Cowboys, Girl Crazy, Lesbian Lust, and Lesbian Cops, all from Cleis Press. Three of them have been Lambda Literary Award Finalists, and Lesbian Cowboys, co-edited with Rakelle Valencia, won the Lambda Literary Award for lesbian erotica in 2010. A collection of her own work, ­A Ride to Remember, came out recently from Lethe Press.

She can be found online at sacchi-green.blogspot.com, FaceBook (Sacchi Green,) Live Journal (http://sacchig.livejournal.com/), and the Lesbian Fiction Forum (http://www.lesbianfiction.org/viewforum.php?f=53).