Review Tuesday: Fast Girls -- #anthology #erotica #ReviewTuesday

Fast Girls

Edited by Rachel Kramer Bussel

Cleis Press, 2010

When I was in high school, “fast girl” was a barely polite term for a slut―a girl who'd do anything with anyone, at any time. Unlike “slut”, however, the term carried a hint of admiration. Fast girls didn't worry about their reputations, at least not when that conflicted with their pleasure. Fast girls were brave and bold. They went places and did things that the more timid good girls might only dream about.

Rachel Kramer Bussel's collection FAST GIRLS pays tribute to this image of the girl (or woman) who is not afraid to defy convention in the quest for her own satisfaction. The theme is evocative without being too constraining. The stories that Ms. Bussel has assembled take a variety of perspectives on the concept of “fast”. Some authors, like Jennifer Peters in “Confessions of a Kinky Shopaholic” or Kayla Perrin in “Temptation”, give us women who are willing to act on attraction to a stranger. Others―Jacqueline Applebee in “Five-Minute Porn Star”, Tenille Brown in “Speed Bumps”, Charlotte Stein in “Married Life”―show that it's possible to be “fast” in the context of a committed relationship or even a marriage. Angela Caperton's “Playing the Market” and Rachel Kramer Bussel's “Whore Complex” explore the forbidden allure of playing the prostitute. Kristina Wright, on the other hand, creates a heroine who gets her kicks playing on the right side of the law in “Chasing Danger”.

The Table of Contents includes many familiar names, and practically every story is worth reading. I thought I'd mention my personal favorites.

Tristan Taormino's “Winter, Summer”, the only lesbian tale in the anthology, is an exquisite tale of a bar pick-up that turns out to be much more. The unnamed femme narrator tells us at the start that her motto is “Get close enough to get off. No closer”. Yet the dominant butch who claims her manages to break through her frosty shell.

It was as if she had diligently studied my body and knew all its curves and tender spots by heart, like she knew the pool table: hands gliding, stroking, pressing until my soft flesh relaxed into warmth and wetness underneath her, ready to go into whatever deep pocket she was pushing me. She pulled back from me and stood studying my body with her acute, extreme eyes. Her concentration and the quietness that surrounded us were terrifying. Electric.

Stunningly beautiful and lewdly intense, this is the story that will stay with me the longest.

Another exceptional contribution is D.L. King's femdom fantasy “Let's Dance”. I have to admit that one reason I loved this tale was the fact that I know D.L. King personally―and this is a very personal story. The narrator, an author of erotica, notices a cute guy dancing, discovers (through some first-hand exploration) that the boy's genitalia are shaved, and decides (with his enthusiastic agreement) to take him home, tie him up and flog him. The scene in Eve's loft is explicit and arousing, but what sets this story apart is the humorous, natural dialogue and the way it shows off Eve's fast girl attitude.

Once in the cab, I said, “Hey, Cute Boy, who shaved your boy parts?”

A blush began at the top of his ears and traveled to his cheeks. “Uh, I did,” he said.

“What made you decide to do something like that?” The blush spread to his forehead and neck simultaneously, and he looked at the floor of the cab. “Aw, c'mon, you can tell me.” I rested my hand on the inside of his thigh and gave him a good-natured squeeze.

...

“Well, see, I was reading this book...and the guy in it―I guess it was a dirty book...” He looked out the window at the Manhattan Bridge. “Where do you live?”

“Brooklyn. Go on.”

...

“Brooklyn?”

“Don't worry about it. It's not a foreign country,” I said.

A third tale that touched me is the breathtaking D/s saga “Lessons, Slow and Painful” by Tess Danesi. The terrifying sincerity of the heroine's submissiveness struck a deep chord. Ms. Danesi takes the “fast” in the anthology title literally. Her master punishes her for taking shortcuts, doing things too quickly.

“Beg me to cut you, Tess,” he whispers darkly. “Beg me, bitch.”

I don't hesitate. I can't pretend I don't want this. “Do it, Dar. Do it. Go on and just do it,” I reply.

“And you expect me to do it hurriedly, Tess? I don't think so,” he says, accompanied by a cruel little laugh that chills me.

And lest you wonder why all my favorite stories appear to involve BDSM, let me also mention Donna George Storey's lively and intelligent “Waxing Eloquent”. The narrator, house sitting at her brother's Manhattan Beach condo and trying to break up for good with her married professor lover, ends up falling into bed with the television actor who lives next door. She decides to get her pussy waxed in order to have the full L.A. experience (“I guess in L.A. a woman is supposed to look like Barbie with her clothes off, too.”) and discovers that the reported heightened sensitivity of a bare pubis is only the beginning.

As I ride him, slowly, then faster, I realize I am much more sensitive down there. It's as if my time on the salon table was a kind of rough foreplay, priming me for his cock. Cody's wiry curls chafe my tender lips, and I feel as if I'm straddling not just him, but a knife's edge―one side is pleasure, the other sweet pain.

Okay, there's that familiar pleasure/pain dichotomy, but I swear this story does not involve any bondage or discipline!

Cherry Bomb's brief but eloquent contribution “That Girl” seems to sum up the entire collection.

I am a promiscuous girl... only not the way you think. Oh, I know what they say about me. I hear them back home, clamoring in judgment, their whispers. They don't even wait until my back is turned anymore. I know what they think of me, which is why the second that you show any interest in me, any desire to get to know me, they will come to you with the same words on their lips:

“Watch out for her. She's dangerous.”

And I guess I am. What else would you call someone like me? Someone so emotionally reckless, a dangerous fuck. I am the girl that wants everyone and everything, the girl with the uncontrollable lust and insatiable hunger.

This is what it means, to be a fast girl. But it's not as simple as it sounds, as the authors in this collection demonstrate.

Repin’ the Realness of Race, Class and Wellness in Erotic Lit - #LGBTQ #womenwriters #blackwritersmatter

By Stephani Maari Booker (Guest Blogger)

Writing has been my lifelong vocation, and for a good chunk of my life I’ve been a voracious reader of erotica, mostly F/F erotica being that I’m a lesbian. However, I’ve written only four complete erotic stories in my life, plus an erotic fantasy romance that’s currently in progress. On top of having had jobs in journalism and nonprofits, I do a lot of different kinds of writing, so erotica just isn’t always on the front burner when I have many other things cooking on my stove.

In my completed erotic stories, I’m repin’ the realness of race and class when folks hook up. To translate from African American Vernacular English to Standard American English, I’m representing the everyday truths of race and class in romantic/sexual relationships. I’m not depicting big conflicts and dramas but rather the down-to-earth little pushes and pulls between intimate partners that with respectful communication, love and a little sex can resolve into deeper understandings and connections.

An interracial and inter-class couple are main characters in two of my published erotic stories. Madeleine (“Maddi”) is an African American woman from an urban low-income background who fought for the education and opportunities to enable her to have a lower-middle-class job, while her lover Freya is a European American woman who’s been middle class since birth and is a classic lesbian eco-feminist Goddess-worshipper. Their differing perspectives based on their backgrounds and identities affect their individual choices and beliefs about everything, including money and sex, often with amusing results.

My first published story with Maddi and Freya is “The Trade-In” in Coming Together: Girl on Girl, one of Eroticanthology.org’s collections that raise money for charity. In “The Trade-In,” Freya wants Maddi to get rid of an unattractive, cheap jelly-rubber dildo and replace it with a quality silicone one. However, Maddi thinks it’s extravagant to pay a lot of money for a sex toy.

The second published story featuring Maddi and Freya is now in Owning It: Embracing Our Bodies, Sexuality, and Power, a newly released anthology from SinCyr Publishing, a press whose mission is "shifting rape culture one sexy story at a time." Here’s the publisher’s description of this collection:

“Owning who we are is powerful. By embracing our bodies and owning our desires, we best experience beautiful, sensual, and intense sexual expression. The characters in Owning It love their bodies regardless of their physical limitations. In these pages, a Daddy and his 'little' explore the healing waters of a DD/lg dynamic. Others enjoy a wide range of sexual encounters and relationships from playful to intense, from straight to queer, from light to dark. These authors give us characters that truly own it.”

The idea of “owning it” includes proudly claiming your identity and recognizing how it informs your sex life, as well as managing issues of health and ability in ways that benefit sexual, physical and emotional wellness. My story in Owning It, “The Best Medicine,” focuses on these themes by repin’ the realness of race, class and wellness in a romantic-sexual relationship.

The story takes place at the beginning of Maddi and Freya’s relationship, when a particularly irritating minor health problem threatens to put the brakes on their new sex life. In this passage, Maddi has told Freya over the phone that she has a yeast infection. Freya, a self-described witch, proposes natural ways to cure the infection that are rejected by Maddi, who tends to look askance at anything that seems impractical and superstition-based. However, there’s one method Freya offers that Maddi can’t refuse:

“Ohhh,” I heard Freya moan. “You know, Maddi, you could just eat yogurt instead of using the cream. Yogurt will cure you of yeast just as good.”

“Yeah, yeah, Ms. All-Natural,” I dismissed her idea, like I do most of her hippie-dippy nature girl stuff. “It probably takes forever to work, like all those natural cures you’re into.”

“A plain yogurt douche works, too,” she kept on.

“Please, like I need something messier and slower than Monostat cream! Freya, my baby doll, I love you, but let up on that stuff sometimes!” I hated to even admit I was following some of her “food is the best medicine” advice, but I did it anyway:

“I am eating yogurt on top of using the cream every day, though. I want to knock this shit out. But in the meantime, my poonani is off limits to you, baby!”

“Hmmm…you know what? I could help you with this.”

“What do you mean?”

“I could…this weekend…give you some plain yogurt.”

“Illlh!” I stuck my tongue out with disgust. “Plain yogurt with nothing in it?

There’s no way I’m eating that.”

Slowly and slyly, she said, “I didn’t say anything about giving it to you to eat.”

No. She. Ain’t. Talking. About... “Hooooh…hell naw, woman!”

“A plain yogurt application—just what the natural health practitioner ordered!” she proclaimed, her voice high with triumph.

“Mm-hm,” I conceded. “Aren’t you happy you’ve figured out a way you do your little natural girl thing on me?”

“I’m happy I found a way where you would let me,” she replied, sounding as cheery as a chipmunk.

Are you itching (pun intended) to read about Freya’s sexy medicinal ministration to her lover Maddi? Then pick up a copy of Owning It: Embracing Our Bodies, Sexuality, and Power, where you can read this story as well as 14 others in which people of many genders, sexual orientations, races/ethnicities, classes, ages, abilities, sizes and kinks find health, hope and happiness through sexual healing.

Owning It on Barnes & Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/books/1128291186?ean=9781948780025

Owning It on Amazon: http://amzn.to/2CB9t87

SynCyr Publishing info: https://sincyrpublishing.com/2018/03/24/owning-it-release-day/

About the Author

Stephani Maari Booker of Minneapolis, MN, writes prose and poetry for the page and for performance in which she wrestles with her multiple marginalized identities: African American, lesbian, lower-class, nerdy and sexy. She has nonfiction, science fiction, erotica and poetry in many publications. For more information about Stephani's work, go to www.mnartists.org/smbooker or www.goodreads.com/athenapm.

Giveaway!

Leave me a comment with your name and email, and I’ll enter you into a drawing for a free ebook of Owning It, courtesy of SynCyr Publishing.

Sizzling Sunday: Unearthly Delights (#paranormal #erotica #Halloween)

It’s the Sunday before Halloween, and I’m celebrating the release of Unearthly Delights: Tales of Paranormal Desire. This anthology showcases the talent of the authors who frequent the Erotica Readers & Writers Association Storytime list. The eight stories in the collection range from light hearted to extremely dark, but all are intense, arousing tales that deliver a fresh and compelling take on paranormal sexual experience.

My own story, “Underground”, lies on the darker edge of the spectrum. The heroine is a woman whose sexual needs can only be satisfied by a creature of the night.

Check out my  exclusive Sizzling Sunday excerpt below. Then go buy a copy of the book—it’s on sale for the next week for only 99 cents!

Universal Amazon Link: http://mybook.to/erwa01

Thus far tonight, despite the dagger, there has been no blood—just his mouth on mine and his probing thoughts. You are sure? comes his question, as clear as if he’d spoken aloud. I’ve become accustomed to his presence in my mind, the quiet authority that soothes me on the rare occasions when fleeting terror breaks through my lassitude.

I cannot nod—my muscles no longer obey me—but I mentally broadcast my assent. Even now, after all our encounters, I am not certain who he is, what limits he may have, how dangerous he could be. That doesn’t matter. I’d never refuse him.

His kiss sucks the breath from my lungs and the energy from my limbs, leaving me gloriously weak. Liquid pleasure ripples through my languid flesh, flowing in to replace the restless hunger that normally animates my body. I sink into the clean, sunshine-smelling sheets. My pulse sluggish, my breath stuttering, I close my eyes and let myself drown in that intoxicating kiss.

The world grows fuzzy, yet every sensation is heightened. His skin is silken. His mouth is hot as the sun, wet as rain. Tonight he smells of summer flowers and January snow. His hands roam over my nakedness as he kisses me, stroking, coaxing, delicate but insistent. Each touch is an invitation to release a bit more of my self to him.

When he finally stretches out on top of me, I am barely breathing. My heart beats no more than a dozen times per minute. I should be unconscious, my life hanging by a thread. Instead I’m acutely aware of him—the pressure of his hairless chest against my breasts, his winter scent. That, and the ripples of phantom bliss I feel despite my paralysis.

Then Z slides his cock into the hungry void between my sprawled thighs. Fire streaks through me. Answering energy surges back to him in a delicious, dizzy rush. I’d thought I was close to depleted, but I’m wrong. I have more, much more to give.

Z’s fingers might be gentle, but he wields his cock with all the brutal force I crave. Even in my debilitated state, I find myself close to climax as he pounds my cunt. He hovers over me, supporting himself on his arms, skewering me again and again. I’m far too weak to clench my muscles and hold him inside, but my slick folds cling to his cock as he withdraws before each savage thrust. Each time he enters my flesh, he takes more of me.

I surrender gladly, rejoicing in my weakness. Never have I felt so utterly helpless. Possessed, overwhelmed, almost erased. It’s terrifying and thrilling, desperately erotic. My sight is dim, but still I see his eyes, glowing above me as though lit from within by blue-green flame. No smile softens his features, not even now as his cock pulses in my paralyzed depths and his rhythm grows ragged. My surrender excites him. The knowledge that I please him, that I fulfill his needs as he does mine, floods me with a tingling warmth.

Only 99 cents! Free for Kindle Unlimited members!

Silly Me! (#MMM #paranormal #giveaway @DaleCLowry)

By Dale Cameron Lowry (Guest Blogger)

My new paranormal erotica anthology Myths, Moons, and Mayhem was conceived over a Facebook chat I had with Sexy Little Pages publisher Anna Sky last winter. She thought it would be fun to release a Halloween anthology of gay ménage erotica with that title, and ever the sucker for a good pun , I naturally agreed. (The book’s initials and the abbreviation for gay ménage are both MMM.)

And then—silly me!—I said, “I’ll edit it.”

That was the beginning of spending a lot of quality weekends in the office together with my cat. I read through dozens of incredible stories, made tough choices about what to include, and then annoyed my authors with repeated rounds of revisions and punctuation checks.

It was also the genesis of my own story for the anthology, “The Cave.” I’d written paranormal fiction before, of course—ghosts, vampires, fairies, were-raccoons—but for this, I had to come up with something completely different. I didn’t want to play with any of the popular paranormal character types like vampires or werewolves, because I knew I’d be getting plenty of those in the submissions, and the final anthology needed to have a good balance of the familiar and the completely unexpected.

So I wrote a story in a setting I’d never seen before in paranormal fiction—a paleontological excavation in western Madagascar—where the predominant attitude toward the paranormal isn’t one of awe or wonder.

In “The Cave,” my contribution to Myths, Moons, and Mayhem, magic is widely recognized as real, but most people view it as ho-hum and passé, to such an extreme degree they forget to use it when all else fails. Nature photographer and perpetual singleton Ethan is accompanying a group of scientists on fieldwork when some team members fall into a rock fissure. The team tries all the usual, real-world rescue methods to no avail. Only after several hours does Ethan realize his magical skills—which he’s always had but, like most people, never done much with—might come in handy.

The event launches a complicated erotic dance between Ethan, Mendrika (one of the rescuees—Mendrika is a common man’s name in Malagasy), and Joseph (Mendrika’s French husband), as well as a deeper exploration of all three men’s magic.

Of course, working with the other stories in the anthology has been just as magical for me. They have deepened my passion for both the fantasy and ménage

subgenres, which both stretch our imaginations beyond preconceived limits.

There’s a moment in Rebecca Buchanan’s “The Secret of the Golden Cup,” the second story in Myths, Moons, and Mayhem, when the lead character whispers in sudden realization, “Magic is real. Magic is real.” That’s how I feel about the stories in this collection: they create worlds that let me, as a reader, experience a whole new universe of possibilities.

Reading truly is magic.

In a world where so many of us are loudly and frequently told that we’re lesser people, I need those kinds of stories. I need those reminders that the world is bigger than what I see in front of me. I need to know that love, happiness, and magic is out there for everyone to find—including you and me.

Giveaway

To celebrate the release of the paranormal gay ménage anthology Myths, Moons & Mayhem, Dale Cameron Lowry is giving away a bunch of paranormal and ménage ebooks for your reading pleasure. Prizes include:

Chance & Possibility: Seven Fantastical Tales of Gay Desire, an eclectic selection of Dale’s previously published paranormal, fantasy, and sci-fi stories. Chance & Possibility isn’t available to buy anywhere.

Pacific Rimming, a contemporary novelette about a middle-aged gay married couple who fall in love with a younger man while vacationing on Canada’s Vancouver Island

Love Unmasked, the story of a gay man who’s unlucky in love because, once in a blue moon, he turns into a raccoon.

Enter to win here. (https://dalecameronlowry.com/mmm-giveaway/)

Where to buy Myths, Moons, and Mayhem

Universal Ebook Link (for Amazon, Kobo, iTunes, etc):
https://books2read.com/mythsmoons

Amazon Paperback link  
(this will get you to the paperback at your country’s Amazon store):
http://getBook.at/mmm

About Myths, Moons, and Mayhem

Myths, moons, and mayhem make the perfect threesome—and so do the men in this anthology.

Enjoy nine erotic stories of paranormal ménages a trois fueled by lust and magic, where mystical forces collide with the everyday world and even monsters have their own demons to conquer.

A werewolf gets a lust-fueled lesson on fitting in with the pack, a professor unlocks ancient secrets and two men’s hearts, and a pair of supernaturals find themselves at the erotic mercy of a remarkable human. Ghosts, fairies, aliens, and mere mortals test the boundaries of their desires, creating magic of their own.

Penned by popular authors such as Rob Rosen and Clare London, as well as by newcomers to the genre, Myths, Moons & Mayhem is an eclectic mix of paranormal lust and polymythic beings that will spark your fantasies and fuel your bonfires.

Read story summaries and excerpts at https://dalecameronlowry.com/books/myths-moons-mayhem/

Excerpt from “The Cave” by Dale Cameron Lowry

About “The Cave”: Nature photographer and perpetual singleton Ethan is accompanying a group of paleontologists on a caving expedition in Madagascar when Mendrika, a Malagasy scientist, falls into a rock fissure. After using magic to rescue him, Ethan gets quite the passionate thank you from Mendrika and his husband Joseph.

This scene takes place just after the rescue, while the team medic is looking Mendrika over and the rest of the group heads back toward camp. Mendrika, by the way, is a common man’s name in Malagasy, the national language of Madagascar. It means “dignified” or “deserving.” His husband, Joseph, is French.

Joseph was so unlike his usual self on the way back to camp, gregarious and expansive, thanking each of the rescuers with a kiss on the cheek.

“I’m sorry I was short with you,” Joseph said when it was my turn. His English accent was usually pretty clean, as he’d spent some undergraduate semesters in the United States. But now, due to the stress of the day or his newfound ebullience, he was slipping into something more lyrical.

“Don’t worry about it. We were all a little freaked out.”

“No, no,” he said, though his accent was so thick now it might as well have been Non, non. “I was rude. Forgive me?” His eyes were as wide and doleful as a white-browed owl’s.

“Of course. I’m sure if my husband was stuck in a cave, my behavior would have been much worse.”

Joseph’s eyes turned into a chameleon’s. They bugged out of his head. “You have a husband?”

“I was speaking hypothetically. I’ve never been married.”

“Oh! But you are… homosexual?” He pronounced it all French-like, dropping the “h” and rounding his lips into such a tight ring around the “u” of “sexual” that the sound verged on a whistle. I’ve never liked that word—too clinical—but in Joseph’s mouth, it became a symphony in five syllables.

“Bisexual, actually.”

“Bee-sex-soo-elle? I had no idea.” Joseph squeezed my hand. “I suppose being with the same man for nine years has killed my… gaydar? That is what you Americans call it, yes?”

I chuckled. “Yup.”

“Well, thank you, my friend.” Joseph leaned in to kiss me. I could smell the dirt on him, the sweat and strain, but also the sweet, evocative scent of his skin. His lips were soft against the sharp, itchy stubble I’d let grow over the past few days.

Since we weren’t in France, I was under no obligation to echo his silly French customs. But what would it hurt to humor him this once? As he withdrew I moved toward him, returning the peck on his opposite cheek. His face was rough from five o'clock shadow and dirt. I closed my eyes and tried to memorize that texture. I took a second whiff in hopes of memorizing his scent.

About Dale Cameron Lowry

Dale Cameron Lowry had a jagged forehead scar before Harry Potter made it cool. When not busy fighting evil, Dale writes and edits queer romance and speculative fiction. Come to think of it, maybe those are ways of fighting evil too.

You can find the most up-to-date list of Dale’s books and anthologies at www.dalecameronlowry.com.

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