Thursday, January 31, 2013

FREE READ~As Seen Through Windows (Limited Time Only)

From 31 January – 4 February 2013, you can grab a copy of "As Seen Through Windows," a great little collection of voyeuristic erotica, for FREE at Amazon!

An Xcite Books collection of five erotic short stories with mixed themes including voyeurism, sexy neighbours, exhibitionism, interracial, heterosexual, lesbian, masturbation, light bondage, spanking, and detective fiction pastiche/humour.

As Seen Through Windows by Giselle Renarde

A lonely woman spends her days and nights watching the sexy female neighbour who lives in the condo building across from hers – including her stolen encounters with a gorgeously virile regular visitor.

The Breaking Point by Veronica Wilde

College girl Savana’s favourite summer jobs have one very specific perk – they allow her the opportunity to indulge her secret love of flashing. But when arousal distracts her from her work and leads to a clumsy error, she finds herself paying a painful, humiliating and utterly orgasmic price …

Cheaters Never Prosper by Landon Dixon

Her name was Mabel Hughes, and she wanted Janson to find out if her husband was cheating on her. Only, it being the Great D and all – times tougher than the steaks at Tony’s Diner – she didn’t have a lot of dough. All she had was what she carried with her under her threadbare dress, so she made a down payment with that – for the good of her marriage, see? Janson saw plenty, his professional bedroom eyes peeping out the solution to the dame’s dilemma and eyeballing a whole new heady problem that even he wasn’t holstered to handle.

Temptation Lives Next Door by Beverly Langland

Alison is a twitcher, a birdwatcher of sorts, and the particular bird who currently has her enthralled is her neighbour, Lucy. Alison is a loner, a recluse, so the girl next door becomes an obsession, filling her life. She is dreading Lucy’s departure for university – but then the younger woman pays an unexpected visit. This is Alison’s fantasy come true, but can she cross the line into making it a reality?

Who’s Watching Who? by J R Roberts

What’s a girl supposed to do on her regular weekday off? Sit alone in her top floor apartment and admire the view? When that view includes a crew of sexy builders working on the construction site opposite, she slips into a fantasy involving her favourite. She certainly knows how to use her imagination, and his image, to arouse and pleasure herself. But someone is watching. And he needs pleasuring too.

These stories also appear in Watching Me, Watching You which is also published by Xcite Books.

Tuesday, January 29, 2013

Coming This February (to an ebookstore near you!)

January has come and gone and... nothing!  Not a single new release from the Department of Giselle Renarde Erotica.  I'm getting all twitchy, kids.  I'm anxious to see more work hit the market. 

Luckily, I've got some great new titles coming out in February--everything from hardcore lesbian smut to historical paranormal erotic romance to my own single-author anthology of kinky menage erotica!

Here's what's coming up:

10 stories of wild group sex, bisexual fun and kinky pleasures:

Kinky couples are great, but kinky groups are better!

In Giselle Renarde's Kinksters anthology, a lesbian couple shares their anal fetish with a school friend, while a sword collector pays five young men to fulfill her sex-swing fantasy. A gorgeous restaurateur cheats with two men in one night. Three college kids take their tornado fetish on the road, and an Inuit woman faces the dreaded three-headed sea monster. There's an all-girl waxing session, a vintage clothing enthusiast and her bisexual man candy, and a cougar with two male escorts who also happen to be angels. In “Rainbow Night,” three rich bitches trade husbands for an evening of cocksucking, while a roomful of women squirt all over a tattooed beauty in “Lesbukake.”

Menage configurations include FFF, MMF, MFM, MFMFMF, MMFFM, MMFMMM, all-girl group sex, and more! Fetishes include voyeurism, anal, underwater sex, cheating, coercion, sex for money, waxing, age gap, lipstick, clothing, swapping, squirting, wife-watching and tattoos!

Coming to loveyoudivine Alterotica February 15th, 2013.
Kinksters will also be available in print!


The Beast In Me
An historical MFM werewolf menage:

Sarah doesn't have much in common with the other girls in town. She's never even kissed a boy… until the evening Anderson walks her home. Over time, Anderson presses her for more than just kisses, and on the one-year anniversary of their first kiss Sarah might just give in to his whims. But the woods are dark at night, and there are creatures about, howling in the distance.

When Anderson is accosted by a wolf under the light of a full moon, will Sarah save her beau? Or will she be caught in the crossfire? And, if she survives the attack, will life ever be the same?

Coming to Evernight Publishing February 8th, 2013


Stripping My Son's Sleeping Girlfriend
A horny, porny lesbian MILF story from lyd's brand new Stroke line:

Darin's mom can't stand his sexy new girlfriend. Kali parades around the house in see-through blouses and skimpy skirts, showing off her thong with every bend.  That raunchy girl turns her stomach... until the morning she finds Kali passed out alone in Darin's bed.  Asleep, Kali doesn't seem so bad.  In fact, Mama can't resist getting a closer look!  Will her son's sleeping girlfriend wake up to a screaming orgasm, or screaming bloody murder?

Coming to February 22nd, 2013

Saturday, January 26, 2013

FREE READ: Before Goodnight (Phone Sex Erotica)

One evening, I watched a program about adult children who move back in with their parents after having lived elsewhere.  All I could think was what a cramp that must put in their sex lives...

Before Goodnight
by Giselle Renarde

“Just about time for goodnight,” Elson said, stifling a yawn.  “Gotta be up early tomorrow.”
Don’t go.  Not yet. 
Kim’s stomach clenched.  She held her cell phone so close to her face the overwhelmed battery blazed against her cheek.  She was always afraid of her parents picking up when she called him on the house phone. 
To keep him on the line she whispered, “I would love to have you in my mouth right now.”
“In your mouth?”  Elson drew out each word, and Kim wondered if it was shock or disinterest.  “Well, I guess I could make time for that.”
“Any time, any place.”  She tried to sound sexy. 
Was it working?
Any time?”  He sounded dubious.  Any place?”
Her parents were right down the hall.  God forbid they should hear her say such naughty things.  Elson liked to tell Kim she was way too old to worry what her parents thought, but she would always be her father’s daughter.  Elson couldn’t seem to understand that dynamic.
Any place.” She nodded, not that he could see her.  “Any place, including the parking garage at your office.”
Now Elson’s throat made a growling sound, and she knew she had him.  “Oh yeah.  Remember that?”
“How could I forget?”  Kim’s heart raced with the memory.  “Twice.”
“Well, two different occasions.”
“That’s what I meant,” she said.  “I was so nervous.  I thought for sure we were going to get caught.”
“Which time?” he asked.
“Both times.  I thought some security guard would come along and tap on the window like, ‘I see you sucking that guy’s cock there in the front seat. You think I’m blind?’  I thought for sure…”
“But I was keeping an eye out.”  Elson’s voice was low, deep and husky.  He was turned on.  She could feel it.
“You couldn’t have been paying all that much attention if I was bent over your lap with your dick in my mouth.”
artistic top nude
Elson made a noise like his whole body was shuddering with pleasure.  “God, I want to fuck you right now.”
“Me too.”  A thought crossed Kim’s mind, and she didn’t want to tell him about it, but she couldn’t help herself.  She told him everything.  “I can't do it without you anymore.”
“Do what?” he asked.
She breathed in and forced herself to say, “Get off.” 
He didn’t say anything for a moment, and she savoured his ragged breath.  “I’m sure you could psych yourself up with some nasty images of things we’ve done together. Remember the cucumber?”
Kim blushed.  She’d forgotten about that.  He’d even pulled the mirror down off the wall and handed it to her so she could watch that huge green phallus enter her slowly, stretch her wide, then fuck her hard.  “Oh yeah…”
“You could try that on your own, describe it to me over the phone maybe?”
She knew he’d chastise her or tease her, but she told him even so.  “I can’t masturbate in this house.  Ever since I moved back home I haven’t done it.”
Home.  Could this house really be described as home if she wasn’t free to be herself?
“Not once?”  He didn’t sound like he believed her.
“Not here.”
She’d moved back in to save money so she and Elson could afford the down payment on their own place after the wedding.  No more renting, no more apartments.  Now she was itchy all the time, itchy for the freedom they used to have and didn’t anymore.
“If not there,” he asked, “then where?”
Oh, she really didn’t want to tell him this.  “At work.”
“At work?”
“In the bathroom at work.”  She felt like she’d swallowed cotton.  It was embarrassing.  “Only a couple times.  We hadn’t been together in a while and I just needed it. Still not the same as having your warm body in my bed.”
“Do you want my warm body in your bed?”  His smirk was right there in his voice.  “Just say the words.”
Of course that’s what she wanted, but what a person wanted and what was sensible were two very different things.  Anyway, there were only so many times they could have that conversation where Elson asked, “Do you honestly believe your parents still think you’re a virgin?” and she affirmed that they did.  Really and truly, they did.
“Are you in bed?” Kim asked, swerving the conversation in a different direction.
“Not yet.  Just sitting at the desk by the window.”
She could picture Elson there in his little bachelor apartment.  He’d be staring out at the city lights while she saw stars in the suburbs.
“Mmmmm.”  Kim closed her eyes and imagined.  “I want to kneel between your legs right now, right there under your desk.”
“Oh?”  Elson growled and it made her shiver.  “Not a lot of room under there.”
“That's okay.”  She wasn’t giving up.  “I'm small enough.  I’ll squish in.”
“I see.”
He didn’t sound very excited.  Maybe he really was as tired as he’d spent their entire conversation saying he was.  Or maybe he was lost in single-syllable male ecstasy.
“I’d get right in there and trace my tongue all around your cockhead, get you good and hard.  Tease that fat red tip, tickle that little slit—you know the one—then run my tongue down your big thick shaft and lick your balls.”
Elson hissed into the phone.  Yeah, she was really getting to him now.  “Suck ‘em.”
“Suck your balls, Elson? Is that what you want?”
“Oh yeah.”  Sex-voice.  He wasn’t even Elson anymore, just a big throbbing cock.  “Suck ‘em both at once.”
“I don’t know if I can.  They’re so big.  You really think I can get them both into my hot, wet little mouth?”
“You’ve done it before.”
“And I’ll do it again.”  Kim smiled so hard her jaw hurt.  “But you know I’m here to suck your cock.  You know I want to deepthroat that fat shaft, just throw my face at your dick until my eyes water.  I want you so deep in my throat I’m gagging and begging and banging my head on the underside of your desk.  That’s what I want to do to you, babe.”
“Awww fuck…”
“Yesssss, Elson.  I love taking your big cock in my mouth.  I love sucking that monster and hearing you moan and groan and growl.”
Elson made a noise that sounded like all three.
“Hey, remember that time we watched porn on your computer, right at that desk where you’re sitting right now?  You had me in your lap with your fingers all over my pussy lips.  Remember how I’d just shaved them?”
“Oh yeah.”  The thick lust in Elson’s voice made her pussy clench.  “You look so hot like that, when you shave your pussy.”
“God, watching porn with you made me so fucking wet.  Seeing it right in front of me, feeling your heat so close—that got the juices flowing before you even touched me.  And then when you did I was so ready.  I was so hot and wet and throbbing I just about came the second you started stroking my clit.  Remember how fat and red it was, just begging for your touch?”
“Remember how you sucked my tits while you played with my pussy?  I loved it when you fingerfucked me.  It was so raw.  And then you slathered my clit in all that hot pussy juice.  You spanked my cunt and your hand made that wet slapping sound against my baby-smooth skin?  You remember that?”
Elson’s breath hitched and Kim knew he was about to come already.  His voice was so strained, so tight, like every muscle in his body was taut, tense, rigid and ready to burst. 
“Remember how loud I was that time?  My orgasm just took over my body.  You sucked my tits and smacked my clit, and I came screaming.  You made my knees weak, and I slid down your thigh, right to the floor.  That was crazy, that climax.  I’d never felt anything like it.”
The squeals and whines were barely audible anymore.  She strained to hear him coming, but Elson was halfway across the city and off in another world.  And then the tension broke and he howled. 
“Oh yeah.”  He was so loud she worried her parents would hear.  “Fuck yeah, baby, fuck yeah!”
Kim closed her eyes and watched the jizz explode from his cock, landing hot on the underside of his computer desk.  She saw it drip down onto the floor.  Next time she was over she’d have to look for it, see if he’d cleaned it up.  He wouldn’t have.  She knew that.
And then the quiet came back.  He sighed, and she could see the night sky in his voice.
“We've done so much together.”  Kim listened to him breathe for a moment.  “It’s hard to remember it all, but every so often little pieces come back, and they always make me smile.”
“Me too.”  He was smiling now.  She could hear it.  “Thanks for…talking.”
Kim chuckled deep in her throat.  “Thanks for…listening.”
They were quiet together, until Elson yawned.
“Sorry for keeping you up so late, babe.”
“Mmmmm.”  Elson yawned again.  “If I didn’t have to sleep I’d talk to you all night.”
“But you do need to sleep.”
“So do you.”
It was time…
“Yeah.”  Kim couldn’t deny it.  “Work in the morning.”
Quiet again.  It stretched for miles, all around.  “I love you forever.”
“I love you too.”  She hated saying goodbye.  It was a dagger every time.  “Night night, babe.”
“Sleep tight.”
“Don’t let the bedbugs bite.”  She didn’t want to say it.  She didn’t want to hang up, but she could barely keep her eyes open.  Anyway, they’d talk again in the morning.  That was some consolation.
“Goodnight Kim.”
Her heart clenched, and she nodded.  She wanted to cry!  This was ridiculous.  She was acting like a child, keeping him hanging on like this.  Keeping him waiting. 
“Goodnight,” she finally said, though that one word just about killed her.
She waited for him to hang up, and when he did tears welled in her eyes.  Those hot nights together seemed so far in the past, and wedded bliss so far in the future.  She wanted everything now.  The waiting was torture.
But she kissed the phone, as she did every night, and set it on the bedside table, and turned out the light.
The End

Giselle Renarde is a queer Canadian, avid volunteer, contributor to more than 100 short story anthologies, and award-winning author of such books as:

Anonymous: An Erotic Novel

What kind of wife dreams of watching her husband with another man?

A wife like Hannah.

For years, she and Nathaniel have fantasized about bringing a third into the bedroom. But what if it doesn’t work out? Could spell disaster for everyone involved.

That’s why Hannah and Nathaniel need a hired hand. Someone… anonymous.

Will a night of ménage with a mystery man satisfy their desires? Or will Hannah become so obsessed with discovering the true identity of Mr. Anonymous that she doesn’t even realize her husband is falling for someone much closer to home?

Get your copy from retailers such as Amazon, Apple Books, Kobo, Google Play, and many more!

Friday, January 25, 2013

Release Blitz for Kinky Boots by K D Grace

 How's this for a hot cover?

Kinky Boots by K D Grace

After a sizzling encounter in DEMON HEELS, a quirky all-night shoe store, with the store’s hot owner, FINN MASTERS, JILL HART walks away in the most gorgeous boots ever. Her new boots come with an unexpected bonus, a sexy demon named ELEANOR, who’s looking for a good time. All she lacks is a body, and Jill’s will do nicely.

Jill quits her dead-end job and, not knowing what’s come over her stops by the nearest pub intent on doing tequila shots until she falls off the stool. Instead she does FINN MASTERS in the beer garden, unwittingly participating in her first ever threesome. The boots were the bait, the timing was right and Eleanor has new digs. It’s Finn job to prevent Eleanor’s misbehaving. His failure means he’ll have to ride shotgun and do damage control until Eleanor moves out at the next full moon.

With Eleanor in residence, Jill’s bolder, sexier, willing to take risks. But is she a whole new Jill, or is it just demon courage? And how will Finn feel about her when she’s just plain Jill again? Will the maddeningly magical ménage make Jill’s dreams come true, or will it break her heart?

Available from:

More links will be added here as they become available:



There was a soft knock on the door and Meinrad entered the room with several hanks of what looked like ordinary rope. He nodded his greeting to Finn, then his gaze came to rest on Jill, and she felt her entire body blush at his inspection. ‘Turn around,’ he said.

She obeyed.

He made some sound low in his throat that could have passed as either approval or not. Then he placed a large hand on her shoulder and turned her back to face him. She noticed he wore the Kinky Boots uniform T-shirt stretched tight across his very broad chest. The shop name was punctuated by the hard pressure of nipples on muscular pecs. The black jeans he wore rode low on his hips. The wave of lust that rushed over her was staggering.

How had she not noticed how sexy he was?

Then Finn moved to stand beside him, and she understood. Even though Meinrad was by far the larger man, Finn dominated the room. Finn dominated the space. Finn dominated every second of the last twenty-four hours of her life, as though he had shoved his way in and pushed everything else out. It did things to her, that thought, things that were way beyond lust, things that were a lot more frightening than being possessed by a demon.

He stood gazing down at her from some neutral distance that made her feel very much alone, as though the world and everyone in it had receded, leaving her to await her fate. Eleanor was keeping a low profile. Finn spoke without preamble. ‘Unless something’s hurting you, while Meinrad’s binding you, you’re not to speak. You’re only to move when he moves you. You’re to do exactly as he says. You’re to accept what he does to you in total passivity. Is that clear?’

‘Is he going to fuck me?’ She was embarrassed the minute she said it but it was too late to take it back.

‘If I want him to, yes,’ Finn said.

If Finn wanted him to. Dear God, what was she doing? Suddenly she felt unsteady on her feet. She didn’t know Meinrad. Not like she knew Finn. And yet the thought of the big man hammering her with his enormous cock while she was all trussed up was at least as exciting as it was uncomfortable. The thought that he would do so only at Finn’s bidding excited her even more.

‘There’ll be no safe word,’ Finn continued. ‘All you have to do is tell Meinrad to stop. Or if at any time he thinks you’re not fit to continue, he’ll stop, and that’ll be that. Are we clear?’

She nodded. ‘And what about you?’

‘Meinrad’s acting on my behalf.’ Finn held her in a cool gaze. ‘He’ll do as I say, and so will you, unless you choose at any point not to play.’ For a long moment he studied her, as though he might see something, perhaps some flaw, perhaps some weakness, she didn’t know what. He seemed too far away to tell. She held her breath. Waiting.

At last he blinked and stepped back, still holding her gaze. ‘I’ll ask you again, Jill. Are you sure this is what you want?’

She nodded, afraid to speak for fear her heart would jump out of her throat. Then she remembered to breathe again.

Finn said nothing. He took her hands in his and offered them to Meinrad, who took both her wrists in one huge palm and tied them across one another in a simple looped knot from which she could have easily escaped if she’d wanted. Then he led her to the bed and guided her onto it. There, he secured her hands to the headboard with several feet of slack, enough to allow him to work around her and at the same time allow Finn to observe from every angle. A quick glance over her shoulder revealed Finn had pulled a ladder back chair to the side of the bed and sat emotionlessly looking on. A quick glance was all she got before Meinrad settled her into a kneeling position facing the wall with her hands resting on the headboard.

In the beginning, it felt as though she were being decorated with rope; that’s the best way Jill could describe what Meinrad was doing to her. The rope was softer than she expected it to be and not unpleasant against her bare skin. The embarrassment she felt came, flashed hot, then passed as Meinrad looped the rope and efficiently placed knots above her breasts and then below and then tightened and cinched his efforts until the harnessing effect squeezed and pinched and offered up each of her breasts in a tight little nest of rope, like ripe fruit topped by the cherry-hard rise of her nipples. She’d always had sensitive breasts and to have them so handled and bound made her whole chest burn with a need that was replicated in her pussy.

Meinrad worked in complete silence, his hands moving over her body as though she were nothing more than the canvas for what he was creating. His touch was exacting and his rhythm as he worked was hypnotic. Early on she realised that one of his hands was on her at all times. She remembered basic knot training from her childhood days in the Girl Guides. Right over left and under and through. Left over right and under and through. Rope threaded through competent fingers, rope slid over bare skin, coiling, twisting, binding, descending right over left and left over right, pressing a column of knots down the length of her spine before looping around her waist and embracing her belly. Again. And again. Yes, she was his canvas, and what he created took its shape against her flesh, but his art didn’t happen without exacting a price from him, and in her peripheral vision, as he reached around her to secure a knot over her navel, she caught a glimpse of the erection set tight in his black jeans, and she felt the hitch of his breathing not quite hidden in the rhythm of right over left, left over right. As he crossed the ropes around her body, she felt the heat of his breath whisper along her back next to the weaving and twisting and soft swishing of the rope along her spine.

With a tug of the rope every pore of her body responded to the tightening just as he nestled a knot against the pucker of her bottom and her gasp sounded like a rush of wind in the stretching silence. Meinrad gave a little pull and her clit hardened in empathy with the pressure between her buttocks. Then without warning, he slipped an arm around her and turned her over as he pulled two strands of rope up between her legs, up tight against her upper thighs like the elastic of knickers, or a tightly cinched climber’s harness. That done, with a deft movement of his fingers he secured a knot just over her clit, and this time she cried out in the strange mix of discomfort and arousal. The whole gape of her was pressed between the two strands of rope, knotted at fore and aft like a ship, narrow and thick-hulled.

There was barely time to get used to the strange rub and pressure between her legs, or the knot that felt like the tip of a thick finger attempting to breach her bottom, before Meinrad began to bind her thighs to her lower legs and ankles, making the position in which she knelt mandatory. With each knot, with each looping of the rope, he forced her bent legs further apart until she was wide open, yet at the same time held closed by the ropes between her legs. Bound and kneeling on the bed, she tried to breathe deeply, tried to fight back the panic of her own helplessness, something she had never experienced before. She was dangerously close to hyperventilating, and Eleanor seemed to be completely absent from the whole event.

‘Shall I continue?’ Meinrad asked.

***** K D Grace believes Freud was right. In the end, it really IS all about sex, well sex and love. And nobody’s happier about that than she, cuz otherwise, what would she write about?

When she’s not writing, K D is veg gardening or walking. She walks her stories, and she’s serious about it. She and her husband recently walked the Coast to Coast rout across England. For her, inspiration is directly proportionate to how quickly she wears out a pair of walking boots.

K D has erotica published with Xcite Books, Harper Collins Mischief Books, Mammoth, Cleis Press, Black Lace, Erotic Review, Ravenous Romance, Sweetmeats Press and others.

K D’s critically acclaimed erotic romance novels include, The Initiation of Ms Holly, The Pet Shop. Her paranormal erotic novel, Body Temperature and Rising, the first book of her Lakeland Heatwave trilogy, was listed as honorable mention on Violet Blue’s Top 12 Sex Books for 2011. Book two, Riding the Ether, is now available.

K D Grace also writes hot romance as Grace Marshall.

Thursday, January 24, 2013

Call for Submissions: BBC Trans Script Opportunity for TV Writers!

This is ridiculously exciting: the BBC is looking for pitches from script writers. Why?  Because they want to develop "an original full-length comedy sitcom, comedy drama or sketch show... featuring transgender characters"!

I'll say that again: the BBC wants to read YOUR script involving trans characters or themes!

I may be Canadian, but I watch more BBC-produced programming than anything else.  What an amazing opportunity to present trans characters the way YOU want.  We've all had enough of clueless writers giving us dimensionless "tranny" punch lines and punching bags.  YOU can do better, and I want to see it!

And, more importantly, so does the BBC.

There are certain caveats to submission.  You need to be over 16 (and if you're not, you shouldn't be reading this adults-only blog, so go away for a few years! *smile*), and you need to live in the UK, or at least be prepared to move there for a couple years.

You've got until the end of February to get your script in, so get a move on!

All the details are on the BBC's website, here:

Break a leg!

Wednesday, January 23, 2013

How To Make Me Cry

So... you know how Wai Lana yoga airs on PBS at 5 in the morning, and how I often do asanas with her before going to bed?  (yes, I go to bed at 5:30 in the morning)  Well, every so often, at the end of the episode, she plays a "yoga sound" whose voiceover is, as far as I can tell, a variation of this verse from the Siksastaka (a Hindu prayer):

One should chant the holy name of the Lord in a humble state of mind, 
thinking oneself lower than the straw in the street; 
one should be more tolerant than a tree, 
devoid of all sense of false prestige, 
and ready to offer all respect to others. 

The variation goes something like this (I'm working from memory, here):

One should approach yoga in a humble state,
thinking oneself lower than the straw in the street, 
devoid of all false prestige, 
and ready to offer all respect to others,
without ever expecting any in return.

Every time I hear those words, they just fucking BREAK me.  Strangely enough, a later verse of the Siksastaka says,

Tears are flowing from my eyes like torrents of rain, 
and I am feeling all vacant in the world in Your absence.

That's exactly what happens every time I hear that instruction in humility.

And why?

Well, maybe the fact that it's 5:30 in the morning has something to do with it, but I think it's more about PRIDE.  I aspire to compassion and humility, but those aren't really qualities that are bred into us, growing up in North America.

Even here in Canada, where we are particularly self-effacing, we are still raised to be proud and strong and command respect... and if commanding it doesn't work, you DEMAND it.

Having grown up in a household plagued by violence and addiction, I always felt like I had to work SO HARD to advocate on my own behalf, and to PROVE MYSELF in a world that might otherwise write me off.  I had to show my teachers how SMART I was, how GOOD I was, how I could SUCCEED despite every impediment I'd faced.  I had to prove that I deserved their respect.

I've come a long way since then.  I'm educated now.  I'm self-sufficient, I have a career that I love, and I give my time to children who are facing the same obstacles I did when I was their age.  I've earned respect, I would say.

Even so, all it takes to break me down into a sobbing heap is the suggestion that I might give up that respect. (Full disclosure--I'm crying right now!)

I aspire to different things than I did when I was young.  I don't want to feel challenged and threatened when I encounter someone with a dominating or demeaning personality.  I don't want to be angered.  I only want to feel compassion for them, respect for their journey, and understanding that they didn't arrive where they are in a vacuum.

How do I get there?  How do I get to that place where I no longer require respect?

I want to be lower than straw in the street.

But, man, it's not easy...


 The gorgeous videos in this post are from Krishna Art:

Monday, January 21, 2013

Calls for Submission: To Do by February 1st (and a bonus video!)

It's going to be a busy week and a half.  Throughout January, my writing pace has been painfully slow, but I've got multiple short stories on my Calls for Submissions To Do list.  If you happen to be my Bizarro Jerry and you're just aching to write, here's what's on my plate:

Mitzi Szereto is looking for zombie erotica for Love, Lust and Zombies. Undeadline (haha) is February 1st. Read all about it here.

Alison Tyler wants 2000-4K bondage stories, deadline February 1st. Details are on Alison's blog.

I already submitted my story to Smut for Chocaholics, but it looks like the deadline has been extended to February 1st? (I had it down as January 12th).  Also, the url I had for it doesn't work anymore, but this one does:  Anyway, they're looking for 4-6k chocolate-themed erotica.  Read more here.

And while we're talking Smutters, Lucy Felthouse and Victoria Blisse have a call out for Smut by the Sea Volume 2.  Also due February 1st, also 4-6k erotica.  Details here.

Tenille Brown's Can't Get Enough anthology has a mid-February deadline, but I honestly couldn't wait to write a story for her.  I started the day I saw the call.  Find out more here.

Beyond the erotic realm, there are three February 28th deadlines I'd like to draw your attention to over at Chicken Soup for the Soul.  I can't say I'll be sending in anything for Devotional Stories for Wives, largely because I'm no one's wife (but, oh, I love my life... and all that jazz) and also because my official religion is "no religious affiliation," but I encourage other queer women to go for it.  The Chicken Soup people surprised me in the past by publishing a story of mine strongly rooted in queer and genderqueer themes, so I always encourage LGBTQ writers to throw their work into the ring.  If you, like me, are neither wife nor Christian, then you might be more interested in submitting to their collections Lemons to Lemonade or Holiday Stories. For these and other possible books, do click here.

And now, the video you've all been waiting for... the woman who would be my wife if she only took the time to get to know me, and all that jazz... Bebe Neuwirth:


Saturday, January 19, 2013

New Anthology! HUNGER: A Feast of Sensual Tales of Sex and Gastronomy

I feel like I haven't had a new release (I mean, a single-author title) in about 40 years.  Not so for anthologies.  I'm having trouble keeping up with all the new anthos I've got stories published in.

This one, for instance:

Food and sex -- sex and food: two great things that can be even better together!  From soothing chocolate to spicy meatballs the stories in this brand new erotic anthology edited by two masters of the genre - M.CHRISTIAN and ALYN ROSSELINI - feature stories by the creme-de-la-creme of sexual and literary cooking and will tickle your sensual taste buds and stir your pot of erotic thrills.

Basting lovers, cooking orgies, steaming hot encounters, straight as well as queer taste treats ... the stories in HUNGER: A FEAST OF SENSUAL TALES OF SEX AND GASTRONOMY will push boundaries everyone's pleasurable buttons -- both erotic and gastronomic: these are stories that will arouse, amuse, amaze, and whet your appetite for more!


My story in this collection is called "The Sweetest Burn."  It's proof positive that I have an utterly filthy mind.  Kink, kink, kink.  That's all I see:

Wearing only a white apron, Chef entered the room holding a metal pot in one hand and a silicone pastry brush in the other.  He ignored her, at first, mixing his creation with the little blue implement and smiling like he could see the future in his sauce.
"What is it?" she asked.  She wasn't supposed to talk, but she didn't care.  If he didn't want backtalk, he could eat his food off china like a normal person.  But, no.  He wanted to taste it on her skin--she knew him too well.  The secret ingredient was that combination of her sweat and salt and body oils.  Her flesh was a regular bouquet garni of human aromas.
He raised the silicon brush up, allowing a viscous fluid, dark brown, almost burgundy, to drip back into the pot.  Was it molasses?  It did smell sweet, but she thought she got a whiff of chocolate, too, and…chilli pepper?  Strange combination.
"Mole Poblano," he said at last.
"I don't know what that is."
His gaze was steel.  So was his cock, judging by the tent in his apron.  "You don't need to know," he replied, stirring the dark concoction.  "You won't be eating it."
The bones of her wrists rubbed together as she writhed, and that sensation made her cringe almost as much as the knowledge that she'd soon be drizzled with mole poblano, whatever the hell that was.
"Are you ready?" he asked, stepping closer to the table where she kneeled, hands tied together, wrists tied to ankles.
"You act like I want this," she said.
"You do."


Want HUNGER?  It's available from Sizzler Editions:

Friday, January 18, 2013

Donna's in the Naughty Chair

There's a new bondage book on the block. And it's BIG.

The always-innovative Alison Tyler has devised a unique form of blog tour where, rather than reviewing the entire collection, each participant reviews just one story.  The story I'll be talking about is "The Naughty Chair" by Donna George Storey.

Every time I read a story by Donna George Storey, I feel like I'm getting a glimpse into someone's life.  There's no need to suspend disbelief.  It's real.  It's recognizable.

From the desciption of Zach's place, I knew where this story was set: my first apartment. The futon? The mismatched chairs inherited from the last tenant?  Check, check.  Donna's evocative writing grounds the reader in a familiar setting.  You're right there, right away, ready to go.

But this story isn't about an apartment, obviously.  It isn't even really about a chair.  It's about a relationship.  A new one.  One in which the power dynamic hasn't yet been negotiated.  In fact, in a big way, it's being negotiated right before our eyes.

Established BDSM relationships have clear boundaries.  The most exciting stories, for me, are those in which the parameters are being challenged, or where they haven't yet been explicitly built.  The Naughty Chair is one of the latter.  When Zach proposes tying Jillian up, this is the reaction:

"Jillian’s body jerked as if she’d been slapped."  And, later: "His bold words seemed to slither up inside her, hot and hard and nasty."


Jillian is ashamed of what she wants.  For me, a character like this is refreshing because she's so... not me.  She projects her desire onto an inanimate object.  She can't articulate what she wants.  She can't say the words. 

For me, as a fairly genderfucked queer, I tend to identify more with the dudes in het stories.  I like Zach because he doesn't need to tie Jillian to that chair.  "This is voluntary bondage."  He forces her to confront the "struggle between her desire and her inhibition." That said, Jillian and Zach both characterize female sexuality in ways that don't resonate with me.  In words, they do.  Their actions tell a different tale.

The Naughty Chair is a switch story, just this side of vanilla, and very sweet.  New-relationship sweet.  It goes without saying that it's well-written, but I'll say it anyway. We writers need to hear that. :-)

Want to scoop up your own copy of The Big Book of Bondage?  Get it from Cleis Press and Amazon:

Thursday, January 17, 2013

UK Trans and Intersex Participants Needed for Art Project

I find out about the coolest projects from @FTMquarterly, and the latest cool project is this one, from Gendered Intelligence.  Note that this is coming up soon, and it's for people who are trans and/or intersex.  From the GI website:

GI's Anatomy: Drawing Gender, Drawing Sex, Drawing Bodies

Are you a trans or intersex person of any age (over 16) who would like to be involved in an exciting new life drawing project?
Gendered Intelligence has been awarded a £30,000 grant from the Wellcome Trust for “GI’s Anatomy” - a series of practical life drawing workshops with transgender and intersex participants exploring the science of non-normative sexed and gendered bodies through art.
The project will include:
  • A series of life drawing workshops drawing trans and intersex life models
  • Presentations from professionals on medical practice around sex and gender, including Mr Nim Christopher (phalloplasty surgeon) and Dr Polly Carmichael (specialist in gender identity development and disorders of sex development (DSD))
  • Group discussions around the science of non-normative sexed and gendered bodies
  • Visits to galleries / art exhibitions to inspire our work
The work produced on the project will then be showcased at a number of exhibitions and online via social media.


We're looking for two groups of people to participate in the drawing workshops:
  • 15 young trans and/or intersex people aged between 16-25
  • 15 trans and/or intersex people aged 26 and over
Sessions will run on 9th February, 16th February, 2nd March and 16th March in London.
We can refund your full travel costs to London to attend the sessions. (UK only).
If you would like to participate in the workshops, please fill in this application form. Participants do not have to model - we are recruiting models separately.

Life models

We are not looking for any more trans life models at this time. However, if you are an intersex person who would be interested in life modelling, please click here for more information and an application form.

(If any of my links don't work, or for more info, check them out here:

Sounds like an amazing project!

Wednesday, January 16, 2013

FREE READ: First Night on a Waterbed (Lesbian Erotica)

Remember last week, how I promised to post more free reads?  Well, here's one you might like:

First Night on a Waterbed
Lesbian Erotica by Giselle Renarde

She’d never slept in Wanda’s bed before.  It felt weird.  Not just being there in Wanda’s house while the kids spent a week with their grandparents, but the bed itself… 
          Janelle had never been on a waterbed before.  There was something unsettling about it.  She’d never known anyone who owned one, and it seemed like an oddly decadent flashback to the ‘80s.  Was it possible she’d get seasick during the night?
“What do you think?”  Wanda stood naked in the doorway.
Janelle grinned.  “You look good enough to eat, babe.”
With a deep chuckle, Wanda approached the behemoth bed.  “Not about me, silly.  About the waterbed!”
“Oh.”  Janelle plastered on a fake smile.  There were mirrors everywhere in Wanda’s bedroom.  You couldn’t look one way or another without seeing yourself.  “It’s different.”
Wanda leapt onboard and the water sloshed inside the mattress.  A tidal wave sent Janelle tumbling toward the far edge. She let out a little shriek as she fell, but Wanda grabbed her hips and pulled her toward the centre.  Wanda was so damn strong—that’s one thing that had attracted Janelle when they first met.  Felt like a hundred years ago, but in reality they’d only known one another a couple months.
“What are you doing still in your clothes, little girl?”  Wanda crawled the length of Janelle’s body, like a big cat on the prowl.  “I thought I told you to get these things off.”
“I know.”  Janelle returned Wanda’s fiendish smile.  “I was waiting for you.”
Wanda kissed her neck.  That quick peck was hard and sizzling and dry.   Sharp.  Another kiss, this one a little wetter, landed on Janelle’s chest.  The curve of her breasts peeked out beyond her modest V-neck top. Wanda attacked whatever was visible.  Wanda’s long, hot tongue ran the length of Janelle’s cleavage, up and down that little line of flesh.  God, it felt good when she used her tongue that way.  Janelle kept praying Wanda would dig in deeper, find a nipple in there, suck it hard.
“You gonna do a strip show for me, little girl?” Wanda raised her head from Janelle’s breasts and winked.
“No!”  The idea made her giggle.  She also loved the way Wanda called her little girl.  It had been years since Janelle had felt in any sense little… or girlish.  “I want you to undress me.”
“Oh, I see.”  Wanda wasted no time—she was stripping off Janelle’s top even as she spoke. “Yeah, I think I can manage that.” 
Janelle’s hair stuck up with static electricity as her top fell to the floor.  The air in here was dry and cool enough to coax her nipples to tiny pebbled points.  Her chest was heaving already, her breasts rising and falling inside her simple white bra.  They’d just begun and she was almost out of breath already.
Wanda knelt between Janelle’s spread legs.  Her big breasts swayed as she unbuttoned and unzipped the fly on Janelle’s jeans.  Her motions were violent as she pulled tight denim past Janelle’s full hips, yanking so hard the water underneath them sloshed inside its rubberized casing.  There were tides in this bed, and they were wild.
Lolling with the waves, Janelle raised both her legs so Wanda could pull off her jeans and panties.  Wanda dove at Janelle.  Landing flush against her nearly naked skin, Wanda kissed her hard, forcing a tyrannical tongue into Janelle’s surprised mouth. 
Janelle never could keep up with Wanda’s passion, but Wanda had assured her there was no need.  Her job was to lie back and take what Wanda wanted to give, and Wanda’s job was to give it, hard and fast and strong, every time.  Wanda was not a sweet and sensitive lover, but sweetness and sensitivity were overrated.  Janelle couldn’t get off on sweet and sensitive.  Forceful and frenzied did the trick.
A whirlwind of sexual energy spun her out of control as Wanda wove one hand through Janelle’s hair, clenching it in an unforgiving fist.  The other hand worked its way down to Janelle’s bra.  Her nipples ached with the strain of arousal and cold.  It would be nice to feel Wanda’s hot mouth latched to her breasts.  Just thinking about it made Janelle buck against Wanda’s naked thigh.
“Suck my tits,” Janelle pleaded, breaking away from their hot kiss.  “Please, God, please!”
Wanda laughed.  “I doubt if God’s gonna be sucking your tits.  Maybe I will…” 
Such a tease.
“Do it, Wanda, suck my tits.  And go really hard, babe.  I want it to hurt.”  Janelle grabbed the cups of her bra and pulled them both down.  When her naked tits met her woman’s naked tits, everything inside of her jumped.  It was pure pleasure.
“Well…”  Wanda’s breath rushed against Janelle’s forehead, hot as lava.  “If you insist…” 
Wanda began her quick descent, crawling down Janelle’s body, planting fierce kisses.  She stopped when her mouth hovered over Janelle’s naked tits.  Hot breath mingled with the sharp coldness of her nipples and made them burn. 
The pleasure was excruciating, and Janelle just wanted more, more, more. 
“Suck them.”  She felt empowered like this, holding her bra down and sticking out her tits.  “Suck!”
Wanda let out a growl before her tongue struck Janelle’s right tit.  Despite the softness, its sheer heat made Janelle pull away.  The swiftness of her motion caused another tidal wave inside the waterbed and Janelle wished she had something to hold on to.  So she held on to Wanda’s head, inadvertently pressing it down on her tit, forcing her breast farther into that hot, wet mouth.  Wanda went with it, sucking more than just her nipple now, sucking her whole tit. 
Janelle had never felt anything like this.  She couldn’t keep from writhing against Wanda’s belly, trying to angle her hips in such a way that her clit would strike her woman’s stomach.  The harder Wanda sucked her tits, back and forth between the two, the wetter Janelle’s pussy got.  Juice ran down her crack.  When it slowed around the puckered ring of her asshole, she wished Wanda would shove something in there.  A finger, a dildo—didn’t matter what.  
Watching this fierce woman savouring her breasts, Janelle felt like a rabbit being taken by a fox.  Wanda brought that kind of energy to sex, and Janelle needed it.  She was too lethargic otherwise.  That’s what she loved about her relationship with Wanda: they balanced each other out. 
That’s what Janelle was thinking when she blurted the words, “I love you, babe!”
Wanda stopped sucking, and let Janelle’s breast fall from her mouth.  Her eyes were wide, so wide they looked more white than brown.  The only sound in the room was the vulgar sloshing of waterbed.
They’d never ventured into “I love you” territory before. 
In truth, Janelle didn’t mean to say the words.  She wasn’t sure why she had, except that they were true.  They were true, weren’t they?  This had gone beyond flirtation, beyond fling, beyond sexual relief.  They talked every day now.  Wanda’s kids had met Janelle, though she’d been introduced as merely a friend.  There was a future, here.  In fact, the more Janelle processed it in the slow moments they spent staring at each other, the truer it became.
Janelle said it again.  “I love you, Wanda.  I’m in love with you.”
Even the rude squelching noises from waterbed couldn’t break the tension.  Janelle wanted to hear those words back, now, but hot trepidation shot through her core.  Maybe Wanda didn’t love her.  Maybe this relationship meant something altogether different to Wanda than it did to Janelle.
And then a growl rose up through Wanda’s body, deep, like it originated in her gut and rumbled all the way to her throat.  She sounded like a grizzly bear.  Her tongue landed in slashes along Janelle’s belly.  Everything felt so hot, so wet.  Even when the crisp air met with cooling saliva, everything sizzled.
Wanda dove between Janelle’s spread thighs and attacked her engorged clit.  Her whole pussy felt fat and wonderfully wet even before Wanda met it, but the second that hot tongue touched her spread pussy lips Janelle lurched forward.  “Holy Mother!”
“Little girl,” Wanda teased, her voice dark as velvet.  “I am most certainly not your mother.”
Janelle laughed until Wanda’s sizzling mouth met her pussy lips again. The pleasure was too sharp and too vast to be laughed at.  Perching on her elbows, Janelle craned forward.  She needed to get a look at what her woman was doing down there.  Wanda’s mouth had a tongue that licked and teeth that bit, lips that drew into a tight little rosebud to suck her clit.  Wanda’s mouth was magic.
The water beneath their bodies waved in even laps, rocking them gently.  This bed was growing on Janelle, despite its jostling motion and rude noises.  It added dimension to their lovemaking.  Not that Wanda required any improvement.  Her tongue worked fast against Janelle’s clit, flicking up and down as Wanda slithered to her belly like a snake.
“God, you are amazing!”  Janelle pressed her hard nipples between her fingers and thumbs, rolling them, squeezing.
Wanda barely stopped licking to mumble, “It ain’t God that’s licking your pussy, little girl.”
That bizarre combination of words made Janelle tingle.  But, hell, just about everything Wanda did made her tingle.  Just catching sight of her woman in the buff, those big boobs taunting her, wide hips beckoning, made her clit twitch.  Watching Wanda go down on her made her entire body tremble.
And that’s when Janelle realized Wanda had her own way of saying, “I love you,” and this was it. Janelle never had much trouble expressing emotion, but a lot of people couldn’t.  So maybe she should cut Wanda a little slack.  The proof was in the pudding, and Wanda proved her love every time she put her face between Janelle’s thighs.
Wanda’s muffled moans were words of love, and Janelle felt weak with pleasure.  She dug her heels into the mattress, but couldn’t get any traction.  Her feet skidded across the sheets.  Wanda caught her ass with both hands and lifted it, blowing cool air against her burning clit.  “You like that, hmm?”
Janelle moaned with her lips closed, trying to stay quiet even though they were alone in the house.  She couldn’t stand the torture of Wanda’s soft breath.  She begged Wanda to take her clit between those full pink lips and suck it hard, but Wanda just smiled coyly and kept on blowing.
Finally, Janelle couldn’t stand the suspense.  She rubbed her splayed pussy lips against Wanda’s mouth. 
“Suck it!” Janelle cried.  Her voice cracked as she bucked at Wanda’s face. “Suck my clit, babe.  I love you!”
With an animal moan, Wanda tore into Janelle, nibbling her clit and shoving a couple fingers into her hot cunt.  God, Janelle was wet.  She was sopping wet, with juice running down her crack and soaking the bed sheets.  When Janelle bucked to meet those firm fingers, the pad of Wanda’s thumb met her asshole.  She always wanted that, but could never ask for it.  When she shrieked, Wanda took the hint. 
Sucking like crazy on Janelle’s fat clit, Wanda traced tight circles around that puckered hole.  Janelle moaned, “Yes, babe, yes,” until Wanda forged a path through that tight ring of muscle.  A thumb was probably all Janelle could take in her ass, and with Wanda’s fingers already lodged in her cunt, she felt full.  It was a welcome sensation.
“Come for me, little girl.”  Wanda nibbled Janelle’s clit, then sucked it, making her scream with surprise.
The motion encouraged waves beneath their bodies, and those waves echoed the typhoon of desire coursing through Janelle’s core.  There was a tight buzz in her belly, and she wanted to buck and push, both at once.  Wanda was working her so hard her body didn’t seem to know what it wanted first, but she found herself rolling to one side, writhing, whimpering as the pleasure mounted beyond her capacity to enjoy it.
Janelle tried to close her legs, but Wanda held them open.
“No!” Janelle cried.
“Yes.” Wanda quit sucking, but kept reaming her pussy and ass with those perfect fingers.
Wanda was right. 
“Yes!” Janelle shouted, fighting the slow tides beneath the mattress and fucking Wanda’s hand with her pussy and her ass.  It was only her clit that was worn out.  Somehow Wanda knew that.  Wanda was amazing that way.
Janelle came again, right away, not from clit stimulation this time but from the sheer pleasure of being filled, of being fucked.  This time her orgasm was a growl, not a whimper, and then a groan, and then a sequence of shouts and curses as she flipped herself around on the bed.  Water sploshed and recoiled under her breasts and her belly.
“Oh my God,” Janelle sighed, again and again.  She could hardly breathe, but she found Wanda’s beautiful body and cuddled against it. Now more than ever, she knew what love was.  Wanda didn’t have to say the words.  This pleasure in bed was more than enough.
Janelle nearly fell asleep listening to the water lap beneath the pillow.  She was just on the verge of dreaming when she heard Wanda’s voice.
“You know what, little girl? I think I love you too.”

If you'd like a little more lesbian erotica, try What Do Lesbians Do in Bed?
Amazon UK: