Tag Archives: Cleis Press

How to write erotic flash fiction and turn readers on in a few pages

17 Feb

by Rachel Kramer Bussel

I’m a sucker for a good short story. I always have been, which is perhaps why I’ve made a career out of editing short story anthologies, but I’ve come to appreciate the genre anew by compiling three books of erotic flash fiction: Gotta Have It: 69 Stories of Sudden Sex, The Big Book of Orgasms: 69 Sexy Stories and The Big Book of Submission: 69 Kinky Tales. Yes, the number 69 is a cheeky reference, but also rounds out these collections in a beautiful way, allowing room for plenty of variety.

Before I delve into why I love these super short tales so much, I want to let all you writers out there now that I’m looking for the last few ultra hot, creative and brilliant BDSM erotica stories to include in The Big Book of Submission, Volume 2, to be published in 2018 by Cleis Press. Get all the details in the call for submissions and send your stories in by February 28, 2017. Yes, I know that’s around the corner, but at only 1,200 words or less, writing one can be done in a day.

The Big Book of Submission: 69 Kinky Tales

The Big Book of Submission: 69 Kinky Tales

So what do I love about these books? As an editor, I selfishly love that I get to say yes to 69 authors, since sending rejections is the part of the job I hate the most. As a reader, I relish seeing just how playful writers can be with such a limited word count. And as a person with ADD, I love that I can read one of these stories in just a few minutes, making them perfect for our often overbooked and overly busy culture.

Some people might see the words “1,200 words or less” and think, That’s nothing more than a sex scene. Au contraire! What’s been extraordinary to me is seeing just how much passion, heart and soul these authors have imbued into their relatively small amount of words. They’ve created stories that are rich with gorgeous imagery and eroticism, the kinds of stories I reread often. One of my favorites is “Housebroken” by Laila Blake, from The Big Book of Submission, about a special kind of roleplay. Here’s a snippet:

The tiny bell on her kitten-collar chimed whenever she moved her head a little this way or that, sparkling like her pink lips with their ubiquitous honey-scented gloss. All of her seemed to glow as she lay there ivory-pink, her knees pulled up in a shallow angle, leaning against each other, her toes wriggling a little. She never did lie completely still—for that she needed ropes and cuffs, commands and punishments. For the moment, though, Imani allowed it, smiling at her kitten’s antics and the way, in her apartment, her kitten could let go completely, with no care in the world but Imani’s pleasure and her own, attaining the purest sense of freedom humans could find.

Yes, in her limited space, Blake takes readers inside an intimate, loving lesbian BDSM relationship and helps bring their roleplaying to life.

The Big Book of Orgasms: 69 Sexy Stories

The Big Book of Orgasms: 69 Sexy Stories

One of my favorite stories I’ve ever published is the humorous yet thought-provoking gender changing tale “Remote Control” by Logan Zachary in The Big Book of Orgasms. Using the hilarious premise that the title device can change everything from the weather to one’s genitals, Zachary presents a couple who transform themselves inside and out, with fascinating results. You can listen to the whole story on The Kiss Me Quick’s Podcast—I dare you to do so and not wonder what you yourself would do with such a remote in the palm of your hand! Not only is this story sexy and funny, it also manages to slyly comment on gender and sexual orientation.

What the writers who are successful at these sexy flash fiction stories know is that economy of language can indeed be hot, because it forces you to truly say what you mean and imbue every single word with as much power as possible. You can focus on the heart of what makes a relationship or sex act or scene so arousing, cutting out all extraneous distractions. Honing in on what’s vital can help authors see what makes the story tick and force them to value each thought, each touch, each movement as it builds to something greater than the sum of its parts. For the reader, the payoff is that they can get completely sucked into a story, knowing they can fully savor it in the time it takes to enjoy a morning cup of coffee.

Gotta Have It: 69 Stories of Sudden Sex

Gotta Have It: 69 Stories of Sudden Sex

These tales capture the complexity of trying something new in bed, and instead of jumping straight into the screwing, they still take the time to make imbue realism into the equation. In “Anal-yzed” by Donna George Storey from Gotta Have It, she tackles the negotiation between a couple about exploring anal sex, covering a woman’s doubts, fears and uncertainties while still maintaining the heat level:

“Interesting. I have another theory, though.” As he said this, his finger dipped between my asscheeks to stroke my tender pink valley.

I shivered and arched up into his touch. “Theory?”

“Yes, that anal sex is an unnatural act, so it makes you feel like a dirty slut to do it.”

My muscles down there—belly, cunt, asshole—immediately went into spasm, prickles of shame mixed with sweet twinges of pleasure. He was right. It was a turn-on to be a naughty girl who let boys in the back door. But I suddenly realized something else too. Having him talk about fucking my ass—actually analyze it like this—was making me incredibly hot.

Yes, within the confines of her 1,200 word maximum, Storey takes a common sexual fantasy, deconstructs it and does it justice as the narrator and her partner find out just how they can make this fantasy come true. She doesn’t waste any words, but she doesn’t rush the action either.

For those who prefer watching a sex scene unfold, here’s me reading my face slapping erotica story “Manners” from Gotta Have It several years ago at erotic shop Coco De Mer in West Hollywood, a topic I enjoyed distilling into a few racy pages:

To play devil’s advocate, I know that for those who solely read and write novels, the idea of even attempting to narrow down a short story into the confines of flash fiction is anathema. The biggest complaint I get from readers is that these stories are too short, that just as they get started, they’re over. On that point, I agree; however, I see their shortness as their strength, their beauty, their brilliance, and if they leave you wanting to know more about these characters, I consider that a win. So if you’re pressed for time, have a limited attention span like me, or simply want a huge amount of variety in the palm of your hands, check out these flash fiction books, and perhaps they’ll even inspire you to write one of your own.

Rachel Kramer Bussel (rachelkramerbussel.com) has edited over 60 anthologies, including Best Women’s Erotica of the Year, Volume 1, Come Again: Sex Toy Erotica, Begging for It, Fast Girls, The Big Book of Orgasms and more. She writes widely about sex, dating, books and pop culture and teaches erotica writing classes around the country and online. Follow her @raquelita on Twitter and find out more about her classes and consulting at eroticawriting101.com.

The joy of travel sex

16 Dec

by Rachel Kramer Bussel

If you ask me, travel sex is some of the hottest sex in the world. Why? Because travel puts us in a different headspace, where anything can happen. For me, there’s a mix of anticipation, uncertainty and adventure that, when combined as I step onto a plane, check into a hotel or set foot in a new to me city, make me feel far more uninhibited than I do at home.

One of the most outrageous travel sex adventures I’ve ever had happened during an unexpected overnight layover. My flight had been cancelled and I decided to stay at the airport overnight. This was long ago enough that I don’t actually remember what airport it was, which doesn’t really matter save for the fact that the place cleared out as people scrambled to find hotel rooms. Except for me…and a guy who was also stranded. I believe he was from somewhere in South America. He was incredibly sweet and as we waited next to each other, we talked…and then did much more.

It’s hard to put into words without it sounding sordid but what we shared in that airport is actually one of my favorite sexual memories. Why? Because it was completely unexpected. Because we likely never would have met had fate not brought us together that night. Because I would have been scared as hell to spend a whole night in an airport entirely alone. So yes, it was much more than stolen hand jobs. It was a chance to connect with a total stranger and get through a frustrating situation and release some sexual tension. It was an opportunity to be exhibitionists hidden in plain sight.

I also have a huge fondness for hotel sex, whether during a staycation or a full on trip, because hotels are such gorgeous blank slates, with their freshly made beds and amenities, with the chance to shed all my mental baggage for a few nights and bring out my most erotically adventurous side.

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So it’s no surprise that travel lust made its way into my brand new anthology, Best Women’s Erotica of the Year, Volume 2, released this week. I didn’t set out with that plan in mind, but as I read the submissions that landed in my inbox, over and over I found a trip to be the key to starting a fling or relationship. This made perfect sense within the context of each story, and as I crafted the table of contents, I realized how perfectly each travel erotica tale fit within the greater whole. Each of these women are on an adventure, whether they know it when they start out or not, that takes them somewhere they didn’t expect to go. They don’t just “make the best of things” and muddle through, but truly use travel to learn more about themselves and avail themselves of the erotic opportunities awaiting them.

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One of the travel stories in the book is “Like Lights in the Northern Sky” by Dorianne. Here’s how she describes the title phenomenon:

Green and blue waves of light pirouetted across the sky. The stars were dazzling here every night, but now they played peekaboo, constantly disappearing behind a vibrant wash of color only to reappear a second later as the real color (teal, royal blue, emerald and chartreuse green) pulsed in a different direction. Valentina stopped breathing, her entire awareness focused on the light show playing against a rich, black backdrop.

“Aurora borealis,” said one of the tourists.

Wawasayg,” Johnny whispered in her ear.

Dorianne paints an intriguing and intimate portrait not just of this natural phenomenon, but also about the lodge owner and his wife, who are in an open relationship, and how tourist Valentina gets an unexpected but very welcome erotic introduction to the land she’s visiting.

kay-jaybee-best-womens-erotica-of-the-year-volume-two

In “Brick Dust” by Kay Jaybee, protagonist Liza, who lives in England, takes a job at a South African sandstone brick quarry, which leads to some very sexy on-the-job training. We find out she’s taken this assignment in part to escape her ex, Ryan, and his kinky requests, but in this isolated location, with hunky boss Mick, they just may be right up her alley:

Liza could picture the words her ex had written clearly despite her blindfold, she had read them so often. “He…he wanted to tease my body until I begged.”

“That’s the bit that I’ve waned about the most.” Dropping to his knees, Mick sent a shower of particles spraying across Liza’s legs. “It’s not the fact you are bound at at my mercy, but that you’er going to have to plead for me to fuck you that’s working the magic.”

The blanket of ground brick beneath Liza’s body that had initially felt like a soft mattress morphed into unyielding grime-covered earth as Mick spoke. The top layer was sticking to her back, making Liza feel as though she were a living piece of sandpaper. Each time she wriggled her back was scratched, but rather than feeling uncomfortable, it sent ripples of confused desire tripping through her veins.

Jaybee does an excellent job of making sure we get up close and personal with how aroused Liza gets by their public sex, precisely because she’s in a new environment with someone she trusts completely.

josie-jordan-best-womens-erotica-of-the-year-volume-two

In “Volcano Nights” by Josie Jordan, strangers are thrust together when they have to share the only available room in a hotel. When I interviewed the author about the story’s origins, she told me, “There’s something inherently sexy about long-haul travel. All these strangers briefly thrown together, never to meet again.”

Indeed, the surprise layover, combined with her feelings after catching her boyfriend in bed with someone else, make Monica prone to flirting in ways she like wouldn’t be back home:

“What are you thinking?” he asked.

“That I’m going to bed with you in a minute,” I blurted before I could help myself. To hide my embarrassment, I drained my wine.

His smile widened. “I keep thinking about that too.” His eyes sparkled.

My stomach fluttered again and I toyed with my empty glass.

For me, whenever I roll my suitcase away from home and set forth on a voyage, a part of me does step into that anything-can-happen mindset. It’s part of what, in my opinion, makes joining the mile high club so much fun. These days, I’m in a monogamous relationship, but were I to find myself on a crashing plane taking my last breaths, I have a feeling I wouldn’t be worried about propriety. While I am not too fearful about air travel, that frisson of concern and the fact that there are so many factors out of my control, have in the past helped me blurt out similar sentiments to Monica’s. It’s almost as if when we travel, we are adding a layer of sexual bravado that allows us to go where we’ve never gone before, in more than the geographic sense.

Reading itself offers a similar feeling from home, letting us virtually travel to other lands, other worlds and other people’s beds and, perhaps, letting us absorb some of the characters’ coveted bravado. If you’re curious about just what kinds of naughty adventures traveling can lead to, I hope you’ll check out Best Women’s Erotica of the Year, Volume 2, out now in print and ebook and available at your favorite local bookstore.

Rachel Kramer Bussel (rachelkramerbussel.com) has edited over 60 anthologies, including Best Women’s Erotica of the Year, Volume 1 and Volume 2, Come Again: Sex Toy Erotica, Begging for It, Fast Girls, The Big Book of Orgasms and more. She writes widely about sex, dating, books and pop culture and teaches erotica writing classes around the country and online. Follow her @raquelita on Twitter and find out more about her classes and consulting at eroticawriting101.com.

Best Women’s Erotica of the Year, Volume 1 excerpt: Simply Sinful Giveaway

25 Nov

by Rachel Kramer Bussel

Welcome to our Simply Sinful Black Friday Reader Event, where we’re sharing excerpts all day and giving away the gorgeous basket you see below, full of goodies any romance lover would want.

My excerpt is from Best Women’s Erotica of the Year, Volume 1, part of the annual series I edit for Cleis Press, from my bisexual open marriage travel erotic short story, “Flying Solo.”

Blurb: Best Women’s Erotica of the Year, Volume 1, edited by award-winning author and editor Rachel Kramer Bussel, delivers risky, romantic, heart-pounding thrills. Featuring a diverse range of characters, sexualities and scenarios, these 22 steamy stories revel in erotic adventure, from the sparks between strangers to the knowing caresses of longtime lovers. Women learn “The Ropes,” get “Starstruck” and dine with “Two Doms for Dinner.” Penned by beloved authors such as L. Marie Adeline and Tiffany Reisz along with newcomers to the genre, these sexy encounters will give you plenty of fantasy fodder to last all year long.

bweofthe-year_approved

Excerpt of “Flying Solo” by Rachel Kramer Bussel

I’ve made sure my camera has plenty of battery left for this trip, because you’re not here to watch me. I wish you were, but life sometimes keeps us apart. You didn’t ask me to, but I want to send you photos of me naked, turned on, wet for you. Even though you’re not talking up a storm as you usually are when we travel, I feel you with me as I pass through security, and especially as I head to the gate and start casually, quietly, discreetly looking around, the way we did on our honeymoon. Has it really been four years? They’ve flown by.

I’ll never forget sitting with you and hearing you whisper, “Find someone to take back to our hotel room with us.” You didn’t specify if it should be a man or a woman, and although I’d never considered it before, the idea of being pressed between you and another man made me so excited I almost spilled the medium coffee I’d just purchased. You took it from my hand and blew through the small opening in the plastic top for me, raising your eyebrows. I giggled, then started looking. I reached for your hand for support; you squeezed it but then let me go. I fiddled with my wedding ring, twisting around the new gold band over and over, afraid I looked like a kid in a candy store.
You’d whispered to me again. “I’m just so madly in love with you, and I think this should be a new tradition; when we travel, we find someone to join us. Just for fun, no strings attached.” I’d spent the entire time before we boarded perusing every adult sitting around us, mentally undressing them, wondering who had piercings or tattoos, who was kinky, who was the best kisser. I pictured the tall man in a suit, speaking rapidly in Spanish on the phone, with his cock in your mouth. I pictured the short, curvy redhead with her head buried between my legs while you entered her from behind.

“Well?” you’d asked, as they started to board the plane.

“I can’t decide. And I certainly can’t go up to any of these people. What am I going to say? ‘I just got married and my husband wants to have a threesome?’” Yet even saying those unspeakable words made me wet, made my mind and heart race. I’d told you that I was bisexual after our third date, wanting to make sure you wouldn’t have that awful, frat-boy, “That’s hot!” reaction that even most seemingly sophisticated men busted out once I revealed I went both ways. You just nodded and let me tell you all about Simone, the gorgeous woman with the smoky voice and beautiful, curvy body I’d most recently bedded.

I’d fallen in love with you in part because you let me tell you anything, and in turn revealed some of your fantasies. We’d tried out many of them—bondage, strap-ons, hot wax. We’d talked about threesomes and orgies but in a fantasy way, until that trip. For whatever reason, you’d never mentioned wanting to be with another man, but I liked learning new things about you just when I thought I knew it all. “Let’s wait until we’re on the plane,” I’d said, and lucky me: my dream girl, the one whose face I kept returning to, was sitting next to me on the plane. You’d pretended to sleep while I made small talk with her, all the while working up the courage to say what I most wanted to. As it turned out, she’d been the one to whisper in my ear, “I wish I could be alone with you for an hour. I want to kiss you all over.”

I’d stared right back at her, barely hearing the screaming infant behind us, or the blaring music from the woman’s headphones in front of us. I just saw her, Katia, her ripe, naturally pink lips, her jet-black hair, the tiny diamond glinting from her lightly freckled nose. When I reached up and traced her lips, you’d stirred, gently knocking my knee with yours. “You can. Well, not alone, exactly. I’m with him,” I’d whispered, getting close enough to make sure my lips grazed her earlobe. “It’s our honeymoon, but he wants me to bring someone home for us to share.”

“I’m good at sharing,” she’d whispered back, and she’d proven exactly how good once we were settled into our suite. Fresh from a hot shower we’d shared, our kisses making me tingle all over, Katia had gotten you and me on our backs and eased her mouth from one to the other until I was absolutely dripping wet, desperate for more. “You get on top of him,” she’d instructed, in the sweetest, silkiest voice possible. It was an order, but a gentle one. If I’d had a better plan I’m sure she’d have gone along with it, but there was nothing I wanted more than your cock inside me, my body primed from her hot, hungry tongue. She eased you inside me and just as I moaned and thought I might come right then and there, her tongue was back, lapping between the cheeks she held open with those soft, delicate hands. Her tongue pressed against my rosebud, making me groan.

“She’s licking me,” I’d whispered frantically before burying my face in your neck. She worked me into a frenzy, one that your hard, driving cock only made more frantic. When Katia’s fingers reached around me to circle my clit, I came, trembling against both of you, then biting your neck when her fingers didn’t stop dancing against my hard bud. She raised her head, only to nip at the soft flesh of my ass while she coaxed another climax from me. But it wasn’t until she lifted me off of you, pressed three fingers deep inside me, then eased them out and put them in your mouth that I really lost it. The look of sheer ecstasy on your face had me slamming down on top of you, fucking you harder than I ever had. You looked right at me while you sucked her fingers, and I came for the third time, something I’d also never done.

“Can I taste him?” she’d asked, and no sooner were the words out of her mouth than I was climbing off of you, wrapping my hand around the base of your cock, and feeding it to her. She didn’t swallow the whole thing greedily like I would have. Instead, Katia was like a cat with a bowl of milk, her tongue slowly licking up the cream at the tip, one long stroke at a time. I’d never seen a woman give a blow job up close like that, and I didn’t even think about what I did next, I just leaned forward and joined her, my tongue on one side of the ridged crown, hers on the other. Soon we were taking turns putting the head in our mouths, but I let her do the honors when you started to buck your hips up and down. I was too blissed out to give you the proper care and devotion you deserved, but Katia certainly wasn’t. I saw her saliva glinting off the length of your shaft as she rose all the way up, opened those beautiful brown eyes to stare at me, then, keeping her gaze locked on mine, moved all the way down. When I reached out to stroke her hair, you grabbed my hand and we both put just a little pressure on her head, enough to make her moan. Soon you were fucking her face—there’s no other way to describe it. She was grunting like an animal and you were lost in the feel of her mouth.

If someone had told me I’d spend the first night of my honeymoon watching another woman giving my husband head—and liking it—a few years before, or even a few weeks before, I’d have thought they were crazy. But in the moment, it was the hottest thing ever. There was no separation between us; we were all connected by our desire, our yearning to give and get pleasure all at the same time. When you came, I could tell instantly, even though Katia expertly sucked down every drop. “I think you should let Katia sit on your face,” you told me.

Oh my goodness. Of course. I lay back and soon she was on top of me, not writhing wildly, but slowly pressing herself against my mouth, enveloping my senses with her perfume. You got between my legs and ate me while I ate her, and even though your tongue distracted me from what I was doing, nobody minded. Eventually her languid movements weren’t enough for me, and I pulled her tight against me, loving how wet she was getting, loving it even more when she came. She repeated her clit stroking as you kept your mouth on me, so I got to experience a fourth orgasm that knocked me out. Katia was gone by the time I woke up, but what she left us with was an insatiable sense of sexual adventure.

Since then we’ve bedded men, women and couples—only while traveling, never back home. Today will be a first, though, and I not only don’t want to let you down, I’m curious what it’ll be like. Though I’ve had more partners than most of my married friends, when I’m with you, it always feels like married sex, no matter how many people are in the room. This time, it’s just me, and I have to imagine you watching, you whispering to me, you encouraging me. I still get nervous, as you well know, but I’ve loved every single one of our encounters, both in the moment, and how they spur us on later when we’re alone.

I text you a quick hello along with a photo of me, and just as I’m finished sending it, I see a man watching me. His head is shaved, and he towers over my five-two frame. I can tell he’s muscular from how his suit doesn’t quite fit him, even though he looks amazing. He’s taller and wider and probably stronger than you, but again, I know that if you were here you wouldn’t be threatened. Remember that pro football player we picked up, the one who not only bent me over and, with my head buried in the sheets, fucked me so well I squirted, but also fucked you? I think about that when I’m alone sometimes. It was one of the hottest things we’ve ever done. I wonder if Mr. Muscles would ever want to be with a man like you. Instantly, I blush; I can never hide that.

You’ve told me that’s one of the things you love about me—how easily I blush, how readily you can tell when I’m thinking something dirty. The muscle guy walks over. “Hi,” he says, his voice deep yet somehow boyish. “You busy?”

“Just waiting for my plane. Going on a business trip,” I say.

“Me too. Meetings, but not till three tomorrow.” Our flight’s at seven and is only an hour and a half, which means we both have a whole night free. “Look, I don’t want to bother you if you aren’t interested”—he nods at my wedding ring, which I only take off when I shower—“but I couldn’t help noticing you.”

“I’m interested,” I say quietly. I’ve had this conversation dozens of times, but it’s never easy to tell a stranger you’re in an open marriage, and it’s even more challenging without you by my side to help ease things along. “I’m…available. Tonight, anyway,” I say with a laugh.

“Tonight works for me,” he says. I motion to the seat next to me and we sit in companionable silence. I have an urge to lean my head on his shoulder, so I do. He strokes my hair, a seemingly gentle touch, but one that sends shivers running through my body. I picture you on my other side, and me snug between two men, one who sets me on edge and one who makes me feel safe—and sexy too. That’s what you do, if you didn’t know; I feel like I could take on the world in every way, knowing you’re there for me.

flying-solo

You can read the whole story in the anthology, available in print, ebook (including Kindle, Nook, Google Play, iBooks and Kobo) and audiobook. You can also listen to the full story free read by Audible audiobook narrator Rose Caraway

Comment below–or on any post published today, November 25–and be entered to win a Simply Sinful basket of book goodness.

Books! Wine! Bath bombs and soaps! Scones! What more could you need?

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Giveaway closes at midnight (Eastern), November 25, 2016.

Next up in the LadySmut Simply Sinful Reader Event is Isabelle Drake at 11 a.m.

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Rachel Kramer Bussel (rachelkramerbussel.com) has edited over 60 anthologies, including Best Women’s Erotica of the Year, Volume 1, Come Again: Sex Toy Erotica, Begging for It, Fast Girls, The Big Book of Orgasms and more. She writes widely about sex, dating, books and pop culture and teaches erotica writing classes around the country and online. Follow her @raquelita on Twitter and find out more about her classes and consulting at eroticawriting101.com.

EXCERPT: Sex on the job erotica from sexual fantasy book Begging for It

23 Jul

by Rachel Kramer Bussel

In lieu of the usual Lady Smut Sexy Saturday Round-Up, today we are running a very hot erotica excerpt. Hope you enjoy it!

Begging for It: Erotic Fantasies for Women

Begging for It: Erotic Fantasies for Women

Blurb: What would you give — or give up — to fulfill your most cherished sex fantasy? In this Cleis Press collection, erotica editor Rachel Kramer Bussel brings us femme fatales and shy women, women on a mission and women opening up to new worlds of discovery: women who know what they want and are not afraid to beg for it! Let yourself go with these 20 tantalizing tales of tortuous longing and release.

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I edited my new anthology Begging for It: Erotic Fantasies for Women with one goal: to showcase the wide range of women’s sexual fantasies in erotic short story form. Of course, a single anthology cannot cover the extremely wide range of our naughty imaginations, but I love the way all 20 authors took that theme and ran with it. Below is an excerpt from a story in which a woman is granted a wish by her husband of anything she wants for her birthday. What she picks, furtive public sex at the Fix It Depot where he works, is hot hot hot. Check out this steamy snippet below.

From “Morning’s Come” by Sommer Marsden in Begging for It:

My fingers were shaking and it was making tying my shoes damn near impossible.

“Morning’s come,” Riley said softly in my ear. “And soon so will Meg.”

I blushed. The heat in my cheeks made me feel light-headed.

“What if we get caught?”

He shrugged. “We’ve never gotten caught before, but if we do…”

I waited, watching him as he laced up his work boots.

“Then I find a new job,” he laughed.

I smiled. I’d feel awful if that happened, but this fantasy was a craving, a craving that seemed to go right down to the core of my bones. “I’m excited.”

He kissed the top of my head. “Me, too. Happy birthday, baby.”

The drive to work took forever.

“Good news is, we’re short staffed, today,” he whispered, leading me down the wide cold aisles of the store. Overhead, no-nonsense steel shelves towered, holding everything from plumbing pipes to bug spray to lightbulbs. The store was big and impersonal and perfect.

In his section, there wasn’t a person to be found. But every so often, from the maze of aisles, came a random customer. And that was what got my blood flowing fast.

“The one I was telling you about is right…here.” Riley pulled me around the corner and we stopped together, right there, in front of a spectacular gray-speckled marble shower display. The doors were open but when he pushed them shut they were thick, textured glass.

My mouth popped open in surprise and awe. I loved it. Riley laughed, and pushed my mouth shut. “You’ll draw flies.” Then he stepped inside and pulled the doors shut. I could see him…but not. He was a figure there behind the textured safety glass. Clearly a person but not clearly identifiable, not even by gender.

He pushed the door open and winked at me. “Coming?” Then he laughed at his own joke and said, “Well not yet. But soon. However”—he put a hand out to me—“that will only happen if you join me.”

“Are there cameras?” I asked, reaching for his hand. My shaking had turned to a more significant tremor as adrenaline flooded my system. My nipples peaked, stiff and tender inside my bra. My panties grew damp from arousal that had built from the moment I awoke. I was having trouble drawing a deep breath.

He tugged me into the shower stall and pushed me to the smooth, cold wall. “Yes. There are. But they aren’t at an angle where they’ll pick this up. Not even us entering the display.” Riley popped the button on my jeans, drew down the zipper. “Speaking of entering. I’d l like to enter you very soon, birthday girl. Slide into that wet, slick cunt of yours.”

I hummed softly, so turned on I was reduced to noises and not words. I pushed my hand down into his jeans and wrapped my fingers around his cock. I started a slow, easy stroke until he said, more than a little breathless, “Take it out.”

We warred with each other and our clothes until I found myself laughing. But then Riley pushed his fingers inside me and started to thrust and all the laughter died on my lips. I arched my hips, with my jeans pooled around my legs, and met every single stroke of his fingers.

“Hurry,” I said, my pussy slick and swollen from wanting him.

Riley was there too—at that sweet spot where desire met need. Turned on, scared, worked up. He nodded and said nothing. I noticed he hadn’t shaved and pulled him down for a kiss. The kiss turned fierce, his stubble scratching my face until it burned. He had his jeans down, his cock out and his hands on my hips, pinning me to the wall.

Voices drifted from far off, licking at my ears, amplifying my pleasure.

“—Anyone working in this section?”

And an answering voice: “Guess not.”

I bit my lip to keep from laughing. “Turn around,” Riley growled. “Put your pretty hands up on that wall while I fuck you.”

A shiver marched up my spine, and I obeyed him. Putting my hand with my wedding rings on top of my other hand, I braced myself as I pushed my ass back toward him, teasing him. Tempting him to enter me.

His fingers breached me again, one fingertip finding my clit. He kept me there, heart pounding, suspended in pleasure just a heartbeat away from coming.

I hiked my top up and pushed my upper body to the cool marble for a moment as he ran the tip of his cock along my drenched slit. His other hand came around to the front to stroke and tease my clitoris.

“Hello?” someone called outside the shower stall.

“Hurry,” I gasped, my cunt pounding in time with my heart. This wouldn’t take long. Not long at all.

People were circling his department. It was only a matter of time before someone found us. Or saw us through the pebbled glass. The realization forced a wave of breathtaking excitement through me.

*****

Begging for It is available now in print and ebook from Amazon, Barnes & Noble, your local independent bookstore and for Kindle, Nook, Google Play, iBooks and Kobo.

*****

Sommer Marsden (sommermarsden.blogspot.com) is a professional dirty-word writer, gluten-free baker, sock addict, fat wiener dog walker and expert procrastinator. Called “one of the top storytellers in the erotic genre” by Violet Blue, Sommer’s the author of numerous erotic novels including Lost in You, Restricted Release, Restless Spirit and The Accidental Cougar.

*****

Rachel Kramer Bussel (rachelkramerbussel.com) is a New Jersey-based writer, editor, blogger and erotica writing instructor. She’s edited over 60 anthologies, including Best Women’s Erotica of the Year, Volume 1; The Big Book of Orgasms; Come Again: Sex Toy Erotica and others. Find her @raquelita on Twitter, at her blog Lusty Lady and at eroticawriting101.com.

How to eroticize anything: moving edition, with free BDSM erotica story

18 Sep

by Rachel Kramer Bussel

I don’t know about you, but I hate moving. Hate it with a passion, all the more so after having moved three times in the last three years. In some ways, it’s gotten easier, especially because the first moved involved clearing out my Brooklyn apartment of 13 years and hiring a trash removal service, which was both expensive and humiliating, but even the subsequent moves have been stressful and the antithesis of erotica.

movingboxes
what my house looked like during my last move; definitely not sexy!

Which brings me to what I hope is inspiration for those of you sitting there thinking, “I really want to write some smut but have nothing to write about.” I firmly believe that you can eroticize anything, whether it’s love, death, war, politics or, yes, moving. While I was in the midst of moving mania, I found myself thinking about a very hot mover I met when a friend left her jacket with him and I collected it for her. His voice was the kind that could make me melt, and even though in person he wasn’t my usual type, if I’d been single I would definitely have tried to at least get him to whisper in my ear. Plus, he didn’t fit my own preconceived idea of what a mover would look like: big and bulky. He was shorter and thinner and had far more tattoos than I would have expected. That made me even more attracted to him.

So while I can’t report hooking up with him, I can share this story, which hasn’t appeared anywhere else, inspired by all my moves. I’ll leave you with this: next time you find yourself in a situation that makes you want to cry, like my moves did, see how you can turn that on its head and make it sexy as hell. I wrote about the move I wished I could have had (or the post-move afterglow, if you will), and it made the process just a little easier to handle.

DirtyDates_approved

If you like this story, I’ve got plenty more sexy BDSM erotica about kinky couples in Dirty Dates: Erotic Fantasies for Couples, which pubs on my 40th birthday, November 10th. To find out more about my books and events, please subscribe to my newsletter at my website.

Indoor Voices
by Rachel Kramer Bussel

I never thought I’d be the type of woman to wear a ball gag. I don’t mean to say I’m not kinky—I’m as kinky as you can get, and no one knows that better than my husband, Dominick (yes, my guy’s nickname is Dom, and it suits him to a T). What I mean is that I’m a screamer, a yeller, the kind of loud-mouthed brat who gets taken across my husband’s knee for a spanking at a party when I’ve been a little too loose with private details about our bedroom antics. That was last year at our neighbors’ holiday party; “If you don’t mind blabbing our business, you won’t mind them seeing you get spanked.” Oh, I struggled and cursed and pouted and even cried a little, but we both knew I loved every minute of it. I’m sure nobody was too surprised to learn I like getting spanked.

Making noise is part of our foreplay—and our during-play. Bantering with Dom, being bratty or lusty, sometimes egging him on, sometimes simply showing and telling him exactly how much I’m enjoying whatever I’m doing, is part of the fun. Or it was, anyway, in our old neighborhood, where we didn’t care about those who might judge us. Since then, I took a new job several states away, and Dom transferred offices. One of the adjustments was that, with a higher cost of living, we couldn’t afford a big sprawling house, one where our nearest neighbors were close enough if we needed anything, but far enough away they weren’t privy to every time I begged, sobbed and shrieked.

Instead of a house with a basement dungeon, we found a cozy apartment—it even has a fireplace! The one thing it doesn’t have, though, are thick enough walls to muffle our noises. We learned this the hard way, when, in the middle of Dom beating me with our favorite paddle while I counted loudly (we were up to “twelve, thank you, sir”), there was a knock at the door. When I answered it, our new neighbor Holly looked at me with concern. “Beth, are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m great. We’re just…” I paused before improvising, “installing something.” Why I’d need to count during this act, I wasn’t sure, but I hoped Holly would let it slide. She didn’t look like she entirely believed me, but she reluctantly dropped it, leaving me with my heart pounding in an entirely different way than it had while Dom struck my ass. Now, I have a headful of bright burgundy hair, five earrings in one ear and three in the other, and enough metal to set off the detector at the airport every time. I’m not the type of woman who expects everyone to like me or generally cares what people think. But there’s a difference between being independent and wanting to make sure my neighbors aren’t practically a part of my sex life because they’ve overheard every intimate moment.

“Look, I don’t care that much, but if you want to make sure your screams don’t have the police knocking on our door, we’ll have to improvise. I don’t mind keeping your mouth occupied.” He pulled me close for a big kiss, the kind where his tongue invaded my mouth so fully I had no room to breathe or even think. “You be quiet as you can today, and tomorrow you’ll get a reward.”

I’m feisty and occasionally bratty, but I like to earn Dom’s praise, a treat that never gets old. He knows how to reward me in a way that makes every part of me purr. So I took my paddling, with a few extra smacks for causing us to be interrupted, as silently as I could. Whenever I wanted to scream, I bit down into the softness of our pillowcase. I found that while it didn’t come naturally to me, keeping quiet actually turned me on even more. Maybe all that energy I’d gotten used to releasing via my voice got channeled inward, or maybe it knowing that I was obeying Dom was enough. By the time he spread me out, placed a vibrator in my hand, then turned it on to high and had me hold it to my clit before fucking me extra hard, I was happy to bite my lip as my arousal built and built into an orgasm that almost squeezed his cock out of me. When he was close, he took the toy from my hand, easily turned it off and set it aside, then made sure my focus was on the feel of him fucking me. My breath sounded extra loud in my ears as I thrust my hips upward to meet him. When he came, his own low groan was music to my ears.

True to his word, Dom found a way to make keeping quiet not a chore, but a delight—not to mention one that made me instantly wet. Never think you’ve seen everything, at least, not with a guy like Dom, because when he came home from work the next day, his gift was one that kept on giving. “Do you want your present, girl?” When I nodded my head, my ponytail bobbing (he likes that hairstyle for easy access to leading me around), he pushed my shoulders down. Like a good sub, I sank to my knees, sitting so my shoulders were rounded, my breasts thrust forward. Of course I was naked—that’s a given in our home, unless I’m told otherwise.

He patted my hair, looked me deep in the eyes, then slapped my right cheek, hard enough to sting. I let out the quietest of whimpers, tears forming in my eyes. Dom doesn’t slap me very often, so when he does, it makes my whole body come alive, eager for more. Getting slapped stirs my deepest masochism, making endorphins fly every which way. It also makes my mouth and pussy wetter than I even have words for, which was good, because after a few more searing whacks of his hand against my sensitive skin, the next thing I knew, he was holding a black silicone penis gag in front of my face. I’d seen, but never used, a ball gag, but a penis gag?

You might think that because it has the word “gag” in it this toy is something to laugh at, like penis pasta, but you’d be wrong. It was no laughing matter when the slick black toy cockhead was presented to me. I didn’t pause or protest, but simply did what I always do when Dom puts a cock in my face—I opened my mouth and sucked. Dom quickly fastened the Velcro behind my head, then returned to smile down at me. “That’ll keep you quiet, my love. Bang on the floor three times if you need to safeword.” I nodded.

By “floor,” he literally meant the wood of our entryway, where we could easily be heard by anyone passing by, he took me over his lap. Dom had also bought a new paddle. I didn’t look behind me to see what it was made of, but I knew it was new from the way it felt against my ass.

Uncharacteristically, Dom went lightly at first, which lulled me into a sense of complacency. Just as he’d built a rhythm that was almost hypnotic, I felt a harsh, severe blow. I couldn’t help the moan that bubbled up from deep inside, but it had nowhere to go, trapped against the gag. I sucked harder and harder as the blows landed one atop another—literally. He didn’t alternate cheeks, but rather gave me several smacks in one spot before finding another.

The more intense my paddling, the wetter I got. Not being able to make noise meant I had to show him how aroused I was in other ways. I squirmed, hoping to come into contact with his cock. I licked the underside of the sleek toy in my mouth, wishing it were Dom’s. I gave in to the spanking, to the pain, to the rush. When he grabbed my ponytail hard, I gave in to the tears. “You’ve been so good and quiet, I’m going to give you a special spanking.”

The paddle thudded to the ground before Dom pressed my legs as wide as he could get them, then began delivering love taps right on my pussy lips. The taps soon became full-on smacks, like the ones he’d planted across my cheek. I breathed raggedly through my noise, craving only his hand. After a volley that left my pussy throbbing, he slid his thumb inside me while manipulating my clit. I came hard against his hand, primed from the buildup.

When Dom let me sit up, he went to unbuckle the gag, but I shook my head. “You like it, don’t you, my dirty girl?” I smiled. I didn’t need to verbalize it. My Dom knows me perfectly.

The Last Taboo (Big Book of Submission on Tour)

8 Aug

TBBOSblogtourby C. Margery Kempe

There’s a big blog tour on supporting the 69 kinky tales in The Big Book of Submission (click the picture to see more stops along the tour). The book features my story “The Rhino” about a driven advertising executive who intimidates her colleagues, but has discovered a side of herself that she never expected to find.

Although a lot of people still roll their eyes at the whole Fifty Shades of Grey phenomenon, there’s no doubt that it has helped mainstream a lot of practices that would have once only been known to a more discreet group of practitioners. When even big celebrities like Helen Mirren can admit to enjoying spanking, for example, we can see that a lot of headway has been made even if there’s still a lot of giggling behind hands for most vanilla folk.

There’s still a huge backlash against women who submit. While the call for “strong female characters” grows, there’s also a huge misunderstanding about what that means. People love dom women — or at least those who look like they are, such as Emma Peel. But women have fought so hard to be taken seriously, to have their own power and to wield it, that submission can appear to be ‘letting the side down’ as it were.

 

But that’s not what it’s about: it’s about trust.

It’s about having faith in someone other than yourself. It’s about letting go when you’re accustomed to being in control. And it’s about the excitement of not knowing what will happen next — but knowing it’s delicious. Follow the tour for more delights.

Submit to Lady Smut: we won’t ask much of you, but we’ll give you plenty. Follow us on Facebook, too.

 

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