Hang Out with Erotica Writers in Philly!

I squealed in delight when I received the latest press release from Susana Mayer of the Erotica Literary Salon. Several published authors will be reading at the Salon this month, and the featured writer will be the great Rachel Kramer Bussel!

(Excuse me while I go into fangirl mode...)

Rachel is one of my favorite authors and editors. I have been fortunate to be included in many of her anthologies, and she is always fun, personable and one of the most professional in the erotica business. And would you believe in all these years of submitting stories to her anthologies, I have never once heard her read a short story?

It's time to remedy that!

If you're in or near Philly and looking for a kick-ass way to spice up your Tuesday night, this is it. I'm going to be there, and so are a ton of other writers, and did I mention...Rachel Kramer Bussel? (squeeee!)

Here are the details:

The Erotic Literary Salon
Where: TIME (The Bohemian Absinthe Lounge), 1315 Sansom Street, Center City, Philadelphia
When: Tuesday, October 16, 2012. The readings begin at 8 PM, but the doors open at 6:30. Seating is limited, so get there early!
How much: Admission is $10 per person, but there are discounts for students and seniors.
You must be 21 or older to attend!

And here's the press release.

I will see you there!

What Are You Wearing?

Hey, baby...

What are you wearing right now?

Some skimpy panties? Some handsome boxers? Or is a thong more your style?

What's over that? Are you the suits and tie type? Sundresses and flowers in the hair? How about those jeans that fit just right? Are you a lace and silk kind of girl? Are you a flannel and cotton kind of guy?

But more importantly, what are you wearing to bed?

What does your lover encourage you to pull out of the closet before the lights go out? And what happens when you're in that sexy thing, whatever it might be?

Will you tell me all about it?

Over at the Mischief blog, we're talking about the sexiest things in our closet. What do you think is in mine? Click over there to find out.

And of course, tell us what you wear when it's sexy time!

Things Were Hot in Philly...

I had an absolute blast at the Erotic Literary Salon last week!

If you have never attended one of these events, you simply owe it to yourself to enjoy a night of steamy, sexy fun. There were virgins (literally and figuratively!), performance artists, newbies and experts. There were groups of people ready to get it on and just as many who were shy and reserved. There were cool words and cold drinks and hot sweat and warm bodies and sizzling words and such sexiness in every corner that I didn't want to leave -- I wanted to stay and soak up the atmosphere for as long as I could.

Unfortunately, I did have to go -- but I will be back!


Here's the information on this must-see event in downtown Philadelphia.

And by the way -- Happy Birthday, Sam!

Erotic Literary Salon TONIGHT!

If you're in the Philadelphia area and in the mood for something different, why not come out to hear some sexy smut? The Erotic Literary Salon is a steamy, rollicking fun event you will love!

Here are the details:

Erotic Literary Salon
July 17, 2012 at 8:00 PM
Address: TIME (The Bohemian Absinthe Lounge)
1315 Sansom Street, Center City, Philadelphia 

Click here for the press release

You might also win some smut -- I'm going to be giving away two books at the event. Come early to get a good seat and be prepared to blush! 

In Praise of Younger Men

For most of my life, I have made no secret about my love for older men. I have chronicled that obsession in short stories and novels while living it out in my personal life. The majority of men I have dated were older than me -- in most cases, by many years. In some cases, by decades.

It didn't take much thought to figure out why I loved older men. I simply love to learn and explore new things. I enjoy getting to know people who have a rich life of experience that has enhanced the way they view the world. They have been changed. Transformed. Seasoned.

That's what I was getting every time I dated an older man.

It's safe to say that younger men were rarely on my radar. Sure, there were moments when I would look at a fine young specimen and feel that lustful surge deep in my body, where nothing matters but the biological urge. There were times when I would be very intrigued by someone much younger than me, someone who seemed to have a very interesting life -- for someone who hadn't yet lived a "real" life, that is.

Yes, there were times when I was actually catty about dating younger men. I looked at the "cougar" types as women who were just playing with some young thing and didn't actually have any hopes for a future with their delightful little "cub." He was a toy for her, she was a learning experience for him, and that was that.

Don't get me wrong -- it's not that I was close-minded about young men. I wasn't. After all, no matter the age, we have all been younger. We have all been the one who knew we were mature enough, even if the rest of the world didn't think so. I had nothing at all against younger men.

They were just more suitable for other women, not for me. It was a matter of preference.

But then...

You knew there had to be a "but then" moment, didn't you?

...then I met him.

A cougar...Meow!

My old tendencies were alive and well. When he told me how old he was, I immediately filed him under the "look but don't touch" category. He told me a few more things about his life, and I grudgingly filed him under the "he sounds interesting, but he's way too young" category.

Then I sat down and talked to him.

By the end of that conversation, he had somehow made his way to the "I want to hear from him again" category.

A few short days later, he had moved out of all the old categories and was creating some of his own. Along the lines of "I can't believe this is happening" and "he doesn't seem to be that young" and "hey, if Demi Moore could make a go of it..."

Fast forward to a few weeks after that, and holy hell -- I was deep in lust and well on my way to falling in love with the young man who was almost a decade my junior.

Life with a younger man is a constant learning experience. There is nothing like a new and fresh perspective to shake up long-held ideals and beliefs. His youthful energy and enthusiasm touches everything, but especially our relationship. Rather than being set in his ways, his desire to explore everything new gradually shifted my ways, until I rediscovered the person I used to be -- the woman I was ten years ago, or even twenty years ago, when everything was bright and shiny and new, and the horizons were endless.

Sure, there are those who look askance at the idea of a serious relationship with a younger man. There are all sorts of ideas as to why it will never work out. The reasons always cycle around until they hit the crux of what they really want to say: It's about the sex.

They cite the facts: that a woman's sex drive is just hitting stride when she's in her 30's, that she has more fun in the bedroom when she hits her 40's, and of course, men in their twenties are in their sexual prime.

They cite these points and then give me that wink. You know the one. The one that says they know what happens behind those closed doors.

*grin* And who am I to say they're wrong?

But what they are wrong about is the unspoken belief that the younger man is just something to play with, someone to try new things out on, someone who can be molded and shaped and changed to fit whatever I desire. It is perhaps best illustrated by a well-meaning friend of mine, who laughed out loud when I told her about the man in my life.

"But it's not a real relationship," she said, as though it were a foregone conclusion. She continued to laugh until she realized I wasn't.

"But it's not," she insisted.

I just smiled at her.

She looked at me with wide eyes. "Right?"

No, I said. She was wrong. Simply saying it was real didn't do it justice -- it might be the most loving, solid and exciting relationship I have ever known. I spoke quietly, passionately, all through the rest of lunch and dessert and the appearance of the check. She listened and slowly began to nod, still somewhat unbelieving. I knew it would sink in when she had some time to really think about it.

Then she leaned over with a gleam in her eye and a naughty smile on her face and asked, "So, what they say about sex with a younger man...that much is definitely true. Right?"

I laughed out loud. Oh, my, yes. That's definitely true.

Got plans for next week?

If you're not doing anything in particular on Tuesday night, July 17, why not come spend it with me?

On July 17 I will be returning to the Erotic Literary Salon in beautiful Philadelphia. I can't wait! It will be a night of hot erotic readings, discussions about sexy things and an introduction to amazingly talented writers. The room will come alive with sensual energy, and you will be so glad you decided to turn your Tuesday night into something special.

There will also be a special treat from beloved Frances, a regular reader at the Salon. This lovely lady -- 95 years young! -- will read the hilarious Go the Fok to Sleep by Adam Mansbach. I had the great pleasure of seeing her read this last summer, and it was one of the most enjoyable readings I have ever seen! 

Here are the details:


Erotic Literary Salon
July 17, 2012 at 8:00 PM
Address: TIME (The Bohemian Absinthe Lounge)
1315 Sansom Street, Center City, Philadelphia 

Click here for the press release

In addition to reading a short story, I will be giving away print copies of my latest releases: A Week in the Snow and The Green Room. Show up early to get a good seat!

Who was your first?

Who was the first to light your fire and trip your trigger -- so to speak? What did they say? What images did they paint in your head? How did they inspire you to think about sex, to crave more of it, to touch yourself? Who was the first?

Over at the Mischief blog, erotica writers answered that question: Who was your first erotic read?

(What did you think I was asking about...hmmm?)

To find out what my first erotic read was, click on over to the Mischief blog. There are plenty of great titles mentioned, so you might want to grab a pen and paper and make a wish list as you read!

I'm talking about sex again...

Over at The Hot Spot, I'm talking about things like bondage, spanking, submission, dominance and all those wonderful things that can spice up a sex life and take things from good to oh-my-god-GOOD.

What's your experience with such things? Be sure to leave a comment and get the conversation started!

Curvy Girls!

When I got my copies of Curvy Girls in the mail, I squealed with delight. Yes, squealed.

It's safe to say I am very excited about this anthology. I was thrilled from the moment I saw the subject matter (curvy girls!) and of course, the fact that it was edited by the awesome Rachel Kramer Bussel. I've been in many of her anthologies before, but this one? I really, really wanted to be in this one. Perhaps it's because I'm one of those ladies that shops at Hips and Curves. Perhaps it's because I believe the curvier, heavier -- and often, yes, downright sexier -- women don't get a fair shake when it comes to feeling desirable. Perhaps it's because as the years go by, I care less about what people think and much more about how I feel.

And let me tell you, these days, I'm feeling sexier than ever!

I'm going through this book, reading one story each night. It's tough to pace myself, because I want to read it all in one sitting, to devour it like I might go after every inch of a lover's skin with my tongue and teeth and lips. But I am holding back, giving myself a little treat every night, because I want to draw out the pleasure.

My story "Passing the Time" is part of the collection. It's about a woman named Amber, who is puzzled at the sudden lack of affection from the man who said he wanted her. More than that, it's about what she chooses to do about it, and how much she enjoys it. Here's a snippet:

She had all sorts of ideas now, and no one to share them with. She wondered again where he was, and why he hadn’t called like he said he would.

Leaning over with a sigh, Amber put the lotion on the windowsill above her bed. As she did, her gaze landed on the space beside her nightstand.

On the little red box peeking out from under the bed.

In that box resided a variety of adult toys, from vibrators to dildos to pearls to clamps. She looked at the box for a very long time. In all her concern that her boyfriend didn’t feel the way he once had, her sexual desire had taken a vacation. She had played with herself the day before and found that the resulting orgasm wasn’t worth the time. It was nothing but a thin, joyless spasm of physical release that left her feeling even worse than she had before she started.

But as Amber looked at the box, she started thinking.

First she got sad.

Then she got angry.

Then she got busy.

She yanked the box out from under the bed. Something in there rattled—batteries, probably. She opened the top and looked at the first toy there, the dildo that looked quite a bit like her boyfriend’s cock. She picked it up, testing the weight of it in her hand. She looked at the phone. It sat there silently, mocking her hopes that she would hear his voice while she contemplated exactly what she was going to do with that toy.

Because she was going to do something with it, by God.

Something kinky.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. The plastic had warmed in her palm. It still didn’t have the heat her boyfriend’s body did—what could? —but it would do in a pinch. And if this wasn’t a pinch, she didn’t know what was.

Her hand drifted down her chest. Her nipples were hard and hurting already. She ran her hand along where he had been, traced the bruise his tongue and teeth had left there a week ago. She shifted in the bed, lay down on her back and let her fingers walk all over her skin. It was slick from the lotion, warm from the shower. Goosebumps rose everywhere when she thought of the kisses he had bestowed on the back of her neck, of the way he had kissed her ear and made her sigh. She touched all those places and then some, and hardly realized her other hand was moving up and down on the toy in long, fluid strokes.

Her legs shifted. Her knees opened. She slid one hand down between them, careful not to touch the most sensitive places. She loved the way her legs felt. The smoothness of them was delightful, and she lingered there. Soon she was moving a little, pushing her body up to meet her hand. She spread her fingers and slid them between her legs.

She was wet. A tiny moan escaped her.

She lifted her hand to her lips, licked first one finger, then another. She moaned again, a low and secret sound, something for herself alone. She tasted sweet, maybe even a little more than usual. She suddenly remembered the toy in her hand and was surprised that she was stroking it. She slid it across her thigh and let out a shuddering breath. She wanted to be filled, to be slammed hard, to be made love to. All at once.

She pushed the toy against her clit. Her moan was louder this time, and the sensation rolled through her with the force of a fast-moving wave. Good grief—had she really been that tense? The relaxation and the tension combined together, made her struggle to move slow.

“Slow,” she said out loud, taking a deep breath. The toy slipped against her clit, back and forth, warming even more as her wetness spread over it. She arched up and took the tip inside her lips. Her pussy was as smooth as her legs were. The wetness flowed unchecked across her lips and down the crack of her ass. She would have to change the sheets later. She didn’t care.

And she finds all sorts of other naughty things to do from that point on...want more? I'll stop teasing you and give you the link to go get one of your own.

A Steamy Excerpt from The Green Room

One day soon, I will explain the story behind The Green Room. Oh, my...that will be a long blog post. There is quite a story to tell!

But for now, I am dishing up a sexy excerpt over at Hitting the Hot Spot.

Read the excerpt from The Green Room here.

I'm craving a kiss...

Today I am craving a kiss.

There is that sweet moment of the first kiss, the much-needed touch of lips and tongue and breath after an absence, whether it be an hour of running errands or weeks of being miles apart. It's a soft and simple touch, a gentle hello and welcome back. It's a remembrance, a moment to bask in that familiar feeling and be grateful to have it again.

Then there is the second kiss, this one deeper, a stronger hello that basks in the familiar yet lets the excitement build. It's the kiss that tells me how the next one is going to go. Does this second kiss taper off with a little nibble and a smile? Does it end with that "just wait a little while longer" feeling that leaves me both satisfied and sweetly unsatisfied, all at once?

Or does it end with a deep breath and a little bit of a tremble, the sign that more is wanted, needed, sought?

At that moment, certain things go through my mind. Where are we -- is the privacy enough? How much time to we have? How quickly can we get out of these clothes? How soon can we get to the bedroom -- or should we even bother? There is the couch, the floor, the table with the lamp that is the perfect height to bend over and brace myself...

There is the wall behind me, the smooth wall that feels hard against my back as he kisses me the third time, his hand cupping my head, his other hand sliding under my shirt, finding the bare skin that he loves to touch, his tongue sweeping into my mouth and his moan filling my throat -- or is that noise coming from me?

By that time we're both so caught up in the moment that the questions of where or how or time disappear, and there is nothing but that sweet and clean taste of him, the scent of my perfume between us, the feel of fresh linen and cotton underneath my hands, the feel of his long, lean body pressing hard against my softer one and the quiet whispers.

I want you so much.
I can't believe you feel so good...
Do you want it here? Or there?
Let's go to the bedroom...
I have missed you so much...

But there are times when the kisses don't stop, where the urgency to get to the bedroom -- or to just sink down to the floor -- is put on hold for a little while, when the kisses become deeper and sweeter and filled with purpose. Our bodies are aching for more, begging for that sweet release we always pull from each other, but oh, those kisses...those kisses leave us breathless and wanting and almost faint with desire.

That kiss turns me to liquid inside, makes my knees weak, makes my chest ache and makes my whole body feel both light and heavy at the same time. It feels like floating, that moment when my arms are around his shoulders and his hands are on my bare back, pulling me close to him, a moment when time stands still. It is uniquely him, the kiss that only he can bestow, and it gives comfort and sparks desire all at the same time.

It's the kiss that feels like coming home.

That is my favorite kiss. That's the kiss I am craving today.

Musings on Swinging

Lately, I've had swinging on my mind.

I've been thinking about what it might be like to explore that somewhat taboo side of sexuality. The older I get, the more open I become about things that would have been out of the question several years ago. Of course, it helps to have a loving partner who is very open-minded and willing to try anything new, as long as such experimentation enhances our relationship. Easing into sexual adventures with "baby steps" makes things like swinging feel much less threatening, too.

There is so much about swinging that seems incredibly hot. There is the sweet exploration of learning about another person, having that "first time" again and again. There is the thrill of not knowing exactly what you're going to get -- a nice friendship that occasionally includes sex, or a sexual romp that doesn't even include real names, or something unique in-between? There is the pleasure of knowing that you are sharing your partner, not because they are stepping out on you, but because you want to share something new and exciting with them -- and with another person, of course.

On the other hand, I have a bit of a possessive streak, and that doesn't exactly bode well with the swinging lifestyle. Swinging is all about sharing, exploring different avenues of sexuality, turning others on while you let them get your juices flowing...but how does that translate for someone who has always been, and forever will be, a one-man kind of woman?

Some days, I get incredibly turned on by the idea of my partner being serviced by another woman. In my mind, she's a virtual stranger, someone we just met, or someone we have known for a while but only in a shadowy kind of way, someone who flits and flirts into our life for an evening here and there, and then she's gone. I sometimes picture her going down on him, and the thought of it is enough to make me breathless. Sometimes I imagine having my own turn with her when they're done, and that gets me ready and raring to go.

Then there is the thought of another couple, taking our turns however we please, a solid evening of "anything goes" that we can walk away from the next morning with sweet, delicious aches and secret smiles. Every possible scenario has wandered through my head, and all of them are fantastic.

But other days that possessive streak kicks in good and hard, and the thought of sharing my partner with anyone else -- or being with anyone else myself, for that matter -- is enough to put me in a surprisingly foul mood. Don't mess with the sweetness of the way things are, that little voice in the back of my head tells me. Don't mess with what's already beyond good.

And then my thoughts swing back to the naughty. Back and forth, back and forth...is it okay, even normal, to have thoughts that swing back and forth when it comes to swinging?

I read on a swinging message board that one should not feel morally compromised by the act of swinging. On the other hand, another poster pointed out that that feeling of "this is wrong" and "we shouldn't be doing this" added to the sheer pleasure of playing with others. Obviously, swinging should always fit into the context of a good relationship and enhance it. It should never be something that brings a dark, questionable or brooding atmosphere into the bedroom.

Perhaps it is a matter of finding a nice balance between the sharing and the possessiveness. There are many people out there who can find that balance and make it work.

Am I one of those people? I keep swinging back and forth about the idea. How about you?

Playing with Toys at the Hot Spot

Over at Hitting the Hot Spot, I am talking about sex toys and the men who love to be ravished by them. Sex toys have often been considered a woman's realm, but I think it's awesome to see a man enjoy that vibrator as much as his partner does.

Head over to the Hot Spot to read about the sex toy education Richard got from Rebecca, then tell us about your own sex toy adventures in the comments.

Playing with a sex toy while you read is optional, but highly encouraged!

"A Week in the Snow" Naughty Excerpt

Sorry I haven't had much time to post as of late...that will change soon!

In the meantime, he's a little something naughty from A Week in the Snow. Enjoy!

She climbed off of the snowmobile and took off her coat. Outside the garage the moon had drifted behind the clouds and it was almost pitch-black, but they could still hear the roar of snowploughs, so much closer now. The roads would be cleared by morning, and then they could pull her car out of the ditch, and then…

And then?

Rebecca stared at the snow until Richard pushed the button that lowered the garage door. They were left in utter darkness. She listened to him as he moved towards her, the rustling sound of his coat the only indication of his movement. When he wrapped his arms around her from behind, she bit her lip and fought the urge to cry.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” she murmured.

“Maybe there’s nothing wrong at all.”

She shook her head. “I’m not usually this emotional.”

“I knew seeing your car again would be emotional for you. Maybe this is part of it.”

“It’s not the car,” she whispered. She turned in Richard’s arms and found his lips in the darkness. “It’s not the car.”

He kissed her back. “What is it, then?”

“I’m jealous.”

The admission was like fuel to a fire. His desire for her blazed brighter than before, something he hadn’t thought possible. He grabbed her arm and hauled her to the door of the garage, fumbling with the doorknob until she moved ahead of him and opened it for him.

They burst into the kitchen and immediately he took her down to the floor, where she rolled on top of him and reached for the snap of his jeans. Richard kicked them down, even as she stood above him and stripped out of her clothes. There was the sound of a seam ripping, a zipper opening, a swish of fabric on the tile floor, then she was on top of him, guiding him into her with one deep thrust.

At the now-familiar sensation of his cock impaling her as deeply as it could, Rebecca took a deep breath. She began to rock back and forth. There was no gentleness to her as she rode him, and when Richard reached up to touch her, she yanked his hand away. She looked right into his eyes as she slid her pussy up and down his cock.

“You’re mine,” she hissed. “For the rest of my time here, I’m going to fuck you so often and so hard that you won’t look at another woman for months.”

The warmth of her words flooded Richard. It was the balm he had always wanted, but had never really had, even when he’d worn his wedding band. “Show me.”

She sat straight up and ground down hard. Her nails found his chest and drew sharp lines, taking away his breath and leaving raised welts on his skin. He thrust up into her from the floor, raising her up on his hips, and she pounded back so hard it hurt them both. The intensity of the physical taking pushed Richard quickly to his limits.

“I’m going to come.”

“Good,” she said. “Say my name when you do it.”

“Rebecca.”

“More.”

“Rebecca. Rebecca…Becca…”

“Yes.”

“I’m going to come…”

When he did come, he didn’t hold back. He shouted her name as his cock twitched and spurted into her. She rocked hard on him, getting the most out of it, and when she felt the heat of him flooding her, she reached down between them, touched her swollen clit in just the right way, and came with him. Her pussy tightened on his dick as she threw her head back and cried out, her fingernails bringing blood from his shoulders, her whole body rigid, every muscle tense.

When it was over she sat on him and looked down into his eyes. Neither of them smiled. Neither of them knew what to say.

Finally she stood on shaky legs. He sat up and looked around at the kitchen as though he had never seen it before. He held on to the table as he stood, almost afraid his knees wouldn’t hold him, his hand smarting with the motion. As soon as he let go of the polished wood, Rebecca flung her arms around him, almost knocking him back down to the floor.

“Thank you,” she murmured, though she had no idea what she was thanking him for.

**
Want more? Get your copy of A Week in the Snow here. It's available in both ebook and print!