Monday, April 29, 2013

New Anthology: Smut by the Sea, Volume 2

How's this for a cover, eh?

I got word that Smut by the Sea, Volume 2 is now available.  It includes my sybian story "Arcane Arcade." 

The idea came to me while watching an old episode of Heartbeat... or maybe it was The Royal... no, I'm pretty sure it was Heartbeat.  The antiquated seaside amusement arcade really intrigued me.  We don't have anything like that here in Canada--mind you, I've never been to the Maritimes or to BC, so what the hell do I know?  Maybe there are plenty of ocean-view arcades and I've just never seen them.

Want a little taste from Arcane Arcade?

“Have you ever dreamed of making love to me in an arcade?”
Denny’s throat clenched.  “Umm… only every single night!”
Moira giggled as he helped her to her feet.  “How long do you think we’ve got before the old man gets back?”
“If we’ve got five minutes, that’s long enough.”  Denny rushed to the door and flipped the deadlock, just to be sure.  “How should we do it?  You could bend over the pinball and I could…”
Denny trailed off as his gaze landed on a strange machine he hadn’t noticed before.
Moira turned around, following his gaze to the contraption in the corner.  “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”  Denny jingled the tokens against his palm.  “Looks like one of those bull-riding thingies from the cowboy bars.”
Moira chuckled as she moved toward the machine.  “Looks quite old.”
“It has dials,” Denny said.  “Look: low, medium, high, off.  And this one says small, medium, large, or none.  It’s set to none right now.”
Touching the rubbery nubs on the machine’s saddle, Moira smiled keenly.  “I think I know what it does.”
“What?” Denny asked as she hopped on, straddling the contraption.  There was a handle to hold at the front of the saddle.  Sitting up there, she looked like she was riding a horse.
“Okay, ready to go.  Put a token in.”
“What’s it going to do?”
Moira bit her lip.  “You’ll see.”

Smut by the Sea Volume 2, edited by Victoria Blisse and Lucy Felthouse

Light hearted, sexy fun by the sea is the theme of this erotic anthology, edited by Victoria Blisse and Lucy Felthouse.

From the sun soaked beaches of Brazil to the altogether cooler coastal towns of England, Smut by the Sea Volume 2 has it all. Whatever your interpretation of naughty seaside fun, there’s something nestling between the covers for you. Amusement arcades, beach houses, mermaids, honeymooners, shipwrecks, sex toys and more abound in this exciting collection of stories from erotica’s finest authors.

Contains stories from Victoria Blisse, Tilly Hunter, Rachel Randall, Giselle Renarde, Tamsin Flowers, Lucy Felthouse, Kate Britton, Jillian Boyd, Bel Anderson, Cass Peterson, Delyth Angharad, T C Mill, Erzabet Bishop, Tenille Brown and Annabeth Leong.

Available from:

Coming Soon to All Other Good eBook Retailers.


Editor Sites:

Saturday, April 27, 2013

Solve a Mystery and Win Canadian Money

Because that's what everybody wants, eh?  Canadian cash.

I'm still sorting out two weeks worth of emails (I know I said that last night, but... yeah, it's taking a while) and I found an email from Kobo saying they're hosting a mystery contest that could win you 5,000 loonies. That's 2,500 toonies.  That's 1,000 little blue bills with kids playing hockey on the back. In other words, $5,000.  Canadian.

That's not to say this is a Canada-only contest.  It's open to Canada, US, and UK.  Sorry, rest of the world.  You miss out on a little piece of the Great White North.

Here are the details:

April 25, 2013

Kicking off today, Readers have the opportunity to channel their inner Robert Langdon to solve puzzles by gathering clues found in three original short stories authored by J.F. Penn, available free of charge at the Kobo bookstore. A new short story will be released weekly over three week. There's more than meets the eye for players who accept `The Descent' challenge, as they are taken beyond the books to collect additional clues online that will be needed to decode the mystery. The first player to successfully solve the mystery will win a single $5,000 CAD cash prize and a Kobo Glo eReader signed by Dan Brown.

The first short story, Sins of Temptation is available now.

When the mutilated corpse of a wealthy author is found within the grounds of a stately home, the police officer sent to investigate finds a curious diary amongst the occult objects that dominate the scene. Will he uncover the author¿s secret at the ruined chapel that lies across the wasteland, and does he really want to pay the price of such knowledge? 
Throughout the contest, additional clues and guidance will be given to players through Kobo's social media channels which will help them solve the puzzle.

`The Descent' contest is open to residents of the United States, Canada (excluding Qu├ębec) and the United Kingdom, and runs from April 25 to May 14, 2013. No purchase necessary.

For more information and full contest terms & conditions, please visit the contest landing page:

Thursday, April 25, 2013

New Anthologies: Big Bondage and Only You

Stuff comes in the mail, and I show it to you.  That's how things work around here.

My latest prizes are contributors' copies of Alison Tyler's Big Book of Bondage and Rachel Kramer Bussel's Only You.

Let's start with bondage.

You can read Sharon Wachsler's review of my story, Double Dutch, right here:
You can read my review of Donna George Storey's naughty chair here:

It's a fat little book.  I wasn't expecting that, for some reason.

The Big Book of Bondage shares the same dimensions as Cleis Press' 69-story collections like... oh, what are they called?  The brain's not firing today.  I can see the covers in my mind, but I guess I'll have to get up and look at my bookshelf.  One was edited by Sacchi Green and the other by Rachel Kramer Bussel.  I'm lying on my couch right now, under a fleece blanket, with my computer in my lap.  I wish to hell I could remember what those books were called.  But I can't.  Okay, I'm getting up.  brb

Girl Fever and Gotta Have It.

And while I was perusing my bookshelf, I realized Alison Tyler's Sudden Sex anthology is another short-and-fat one.  If you don't own any of these books, buy one.  Or buy them all.

Okay, on to Only You.

Here's what editor Rachel Kramer Bussel says about my story in her introduction:

“Forgotten Bodies,” by Giselle Renarde, addresses the ways we can forget our own bodies, not to mention our partner’s libido, in long-term relationships. Susan goes so far as to hide in the bathroom to avoid sex with her husband, only to discover that he’s cooking up something new and naughty for them to try.

This is one of those (rare?) stories that's not about me.  Well, maybe it is.  Maybe it's about a future version of me.  My character, Susan, is on the other side of a hill I'm still climbing.  She lost her libido all at once.  It wasn't a slow progression, for her.  One day it was there, the next day it was gone.  That was some time ago.  For years, she's had zero interest in sex.  She's gone along when her husband wanted it, but it wasn't for her.

"Forgotten Bodies" is a wake-up call with a smack on the ass.

There's a cure for everything, I tells ya.


Wednesday, April 24, 2013

Nanny State: Read the First Chapter~Right Here, Right Now!

Nanny State is a little much for some readers--a novella about lesbian age play isn't everybody's cup of tea.  But it is mine, and who knows?  It might be yours too!

Read the first chapter now:


The lights were off when I got back to the house—very unusual, because my strict landlady Victoria was pretty much always around.  She’d converted the extra bedroom into an office years before I came out here for school, and that’s where she worked as some sort of typist.  I never asked for details about what she did for a living.  I didn’t really care.

I know that sounds mean, but Victoria was hard to sympathize with.  At times, she was unbearably controlling.  She demanded I come home promptly after class, and I always resented the way she’d stand in the living room with one eye on her watch, asking, “What time do you call this, Summer?”

Victoria was an old friend of my mom’s, but the longer I stayed with her the more she acted like she owned me, like I was a little kid in need of protection.  Who did she think she was, bossing me around in that passive-aggressive way of hers?

“Victoria?  Are you up here?”  I climbed the stairs, turning on every light as I went.

As much as I complained about Victoria breathing down my neck every hour of the day, I hated being alone in the house.  It gave me the creeps.  If I could afford it, I’d get a nice little apartment of my own, but that would mean finding a job.  After getting fired from my last two restaurant gigs I couldn’t get a reference to save my life.

Anyway, until I finished university it was better to focus my time on writing papers and studying for exams.  That’s a big part of the reason I transferred schools and came out here to live.  Back home I got way too distracted by hot friends and good times.

In fact, the thing I missed most about my freedom was all the meaningless sex.  Under Victoria’s roof, I couldn’t get away with shit.  School and home, bedroom door open at all times.  She even had the parental block set on the TV so I couldn’t watch anything with “mature themes.”

My poor pussy was craving attention, and the most I could give it was a little stroke in the shower.  Even then, Victoria timed me as if I was wasting water.  After five minutes, she’d be knocking on the door, hollering, “What are you doing in there?”

I stood at the top of the stairs, gazing into open, empty rooms.  “Victoria?”

No response.

That settled it—she wasn’t home!  No way I was going to miss this opportunity to do something naughty.  Racing into my bedroom, I shut the door and pulled my laptop out of my bag.

My heart thundered in my ears while a thick heat pulsed low in my belly, spreading all the way down my thighs.  I couldn’t wait.

“Gimme the good stuff,” I said as I clicked on my favourite porn site.  It had a feature where you could search out what you liked best.

I typed in lesbian orgasms.

There was nothing I loved better than watching real girls come, and I looked through the thumbnails for one where the women weren’t bleach blondes.  Girls with tattoos got me off almost immediately, so when I found a porn clip starring one inky vixen with hot pink streaks in her hair and one innocent looking redhead, I was all over it.

When the video began, the tattooed girl was already sucking the redhead’s tits, thank god.  I hated when lesbian clips started with ten minutes of kissing.  Sure kissing was hot, but when I watched porn I wanted it to be on fire.

This clip definitely fit the bill.  After fifteen seconds of ogling that leather-clad punk as she suckled the pallid redhead, my panties were soaked through.  I reached under the elastic waist of my Uni track pants and cupped my mound over my juicy, soaked underwear.

Victoria had disposed of all my sexy thongs the first time she did laundry, replacing them with white cotton undies.  Totally not sexy, but I never did like going commando so I just grew extra cautious about letting people get an impromptu look at my panties.

“Fuck yeah!”

The chick with the ink planted rough kisses and love bites down the redhead’s paper-white belly.  God, they were hot together.  I hadn’t eaten pussy in months, and I missed it so bad I could almost taste that heavy, musky aroma at the back of my throat.

“Yeah, lick her hard,” I told the girl onscreen.  “Suck her clit, you fucking slut.”

I didn’t mind calling instructions out to my computer.  Didn’t make me feel crazy or anything.  I figured, hell, if I had the house to myself for once I should take full advantage and make a little noise.  When Victoria was home, I always had to be quiet as a church mouse and it was driving me nuts.

When the tattooed girl lunged against the redhead’s bush, a growl rumbled deep inside of me.  I wasn’t sure who I should be more jealous of: the one doing the licking or the one getting licked.  Fuck, I loved the look of that bright red pussy hair.  So many girls in porn were shaved—hell, so was I—but it really turned me on to see a full cloud of pubic hair between a woman’s thighs.

The tattooed girl seemed to like it, too.  She ate that redhead’s pussy wildly and without remorse, like a wolf tearing into a bunny rabbit.  The redhead reacted in a big way, shrieking and whimpering, her voice mellifluous even when she grunted and groaned.

I pushed my bottoms to the floor and spread my legs for the girls onscreen.  Parting my smooth lips, I traced my middle finger round and round my sensitive clit, pretending they could see me.

“You like my pretty pussy, huh?”  I smacked it for them, jumping in my chair as the slap to my clit rang through my body.  “Look how much you turn me on, you little sluts.  I’m all fucking wet for you.”

Stroking my clit with one hand, I pulled up my t-shirt with the other.  It was tight enough to stay there, hiked above my breasts as I tugged my tits out of my bra.  When I pinched my nipples, a surge of electricity zapped down to my clit.  If only I could do what the redhead onscreen was doing, bringing her breasts up to her mouth and sucking them, but my boobs were nowhere near as big as hers.

“God, I love your tits,” I told her, pretending she’d heard me and that smile on her plump pink lips was acknowledgement.

The girl between her legs ate her hard, ravaging her clit.  She hugged her tits and shrieked.  Planting her feet against the mattress, she bucked up against the tattoo girl’s wet face.  Watching her lips contort with blissful agony set my belly ablaze, and I scoured my clit so hard and so fast I came when she did—and I came hard!

But once was never enough when I was getting myself off.  I cupped my mound, squeezing it in my hot hand, feeling my slick inner lips pound and pulse against the outer ones.

When the porn clip finished, I reached for the touch pad on my laptop.  My goal was to get the cursor to a thumbnail of a naked blonde and an Asian woman with giant boobs, but my fingers were wet and my aim was off.  I ended up clicking another video instead.

My belly flip-flopped when the clip started.  It was another lesbian scene, but I’d never come across anything like it before.  There was a woman in her forties, I guess, wearing a prim dress unbuttoned at the front so her big naked breasts were fully exposed.  In her arms, she cradled a girl who was probably about my age.  Like a baby.  So much like at baby that the girl was wearing a diaper!

“What the fuck is this?”

I’d seen some kinky-ass porn in my day, but nothing had ever made my heart clench and my stomach wrench like this did.  It seemed really wrong, and I urged my hand to click another thumbnail, but my fingers would not obey.

When the younger woman took the older one’s nipple in her mouth, my pussy gushed with juice.  There was something mesmerizing about the way she sucked that woman’s tit, like she derived more than just sexual pleasure from it.  And the woman in the dress—wow!  The look on her face was so serene, so loving, that my heart warmed as I watched them together.

“Fuck, I can’t be turned on by this.”  I spoke more to myself than the computer this time.  “This is some crazy shit.”

Even so, my fingers parted my smooth wet pussy lips, tracing up and down my slit and bursting inside while my thumb found my clit.  My whole body surged.  Sure I’d just come, but that wave of orgasm was still close at hand.  Stroking my clit in tight circles, I thrust my fingers languorously in and out of my pussy, savouring the wet squelching sound they made in there.  It wouldn’t be long until I was riding that wave of climax again.

I watched the scene on my computer more intensely than I’d ever watched any other porn clip.  Mainly, I think I wanted to understand why I found it so arousing.  And at the same time, of course, I didn’t want to know at all.  I just kept fucking myself and toying with my clit as the maternal older woman stroked the younger girl’s fine blonde hair, rubbed her back, and caressed her thigh.

It all looked so intimate and serenely sensual that I wanted the same thing, though I didn’t know why.  I loved the way the younger girl’s smallish breasts pressed against the older woman’s bare belly, just above where her dress was still buttoned up.

“Suck my tits, baby.”  I pinched them one by one, imagining those pretty pink lips against my nipple, that velvet-soft tongue licking it, bringing it into her warm, wet mouth.

A surge of energy pulsed through my clit, and my pussy muscles tightened around my fingers.  I was going to come watching this crazy fetish porn.  I was going to come watching that pretty young woman suck those big, beautiful tits.  This was unbelievable.


Every muscle in my body clenched.  My heart seemed to stop beating, and still I struggled to extract my fingers from my pussy and turn off the porn.

Too late anyway.  I’d been caught red-handed.  I’d gotten so involved that I didn’t even hear the door open.

“What do you think you’re doing, young lady?”  Victoria hovered just inside my room, hands on hips.  She hadn’t even taken off her leather boots.

I quickly pulled my t-shirt down to cover my boobs, though my bra was still lodged beneath them.  My face felt burning hot.  It must have been red as a beet!  Still, I couldn’t let her know how embarrassed I felt.

“What does it look like I’m doing?”  I scrambled into my track pants.  “I’m trying to get off—and you’re no help, standing there like the wicked witch of the west.”

Was that the bad one?  I couldn’t remember.

“I have absolutely no intention of helping you in that twisted endeavour.”  Victoria’s gaze kept darting to the computer screen, where the younger woman continued to suckle to older one.

“Besides,” I said.  “My door was closed.  Don’t I deserve a bit of privacy in my own damn bedroom?”

Finally, she let out an exaggerated hmph sound and pushed my wheeled study chair clear across the room.  By the time I’d turned myself around, she’d closed my laptop and was trudging out of my room with it.

Now my blood was really boiling.  That laptop was my private property!  “Where the fuck do you think you’re going with that?”

Victoria gasped, spinning on her heels.  Her face was like marble, hard and white and frightening.  “Mind your language, Summer.  This is still my house, after all.”

“Yeah, no shit!”  I couldn’t control my anger.  The power she wielded like a weapon just made me so damn mad.  “You remind me every day: ‘My roof, my rules.  Your mother sent you here for a reason.’  I’m so sick of you.”  Grabbing hold of my computer, I yanked it from her hands.  “I take all my class notes on this laptop, and I do all my reading on it too.  It’s not a toy, and even if it was, it’s mine, you ugly bitch.”

Everything seemed to happen in slow motion after that.  I held my laptop so close to my chest I could feel its warmth against my pointed nipples.  My breath was coming so fast after all that screaming I worried I might hyperventilate, but I worried even more that Victoria would hit me with something.

It wasn’t right of me to call her an ugly bitch.  I knew that.  And it wasn’t even true.  She was the kind of woman whose skin didn’t know her age, except for the laugh line to one side of her mouth and the crinkles she got around her eyes every time she smiled.  But she sure wasn’t smiling now, or laughing.  I’d never seen her looking so… hurt.

“Wait,” I said as she walked to her bedroom across the hall from mine.

She looked at me, seeming small, gaunt, powerless.  She didn’t say a word.

“I’m sorry, Victoria.”

But it was too late.  She’d already closed her door.


Want more?

Find Nanny State now at: 

Friday, April 19, 2013

This Might be the Best Idea I've Ever Had...

I needed a place to hang my puff...

And discovered the Red Rider strap-on dildo suctions firmly to my shower tile...


Tuesday, April 16, 2013

New Lesbian Horror Short: Mahaha's Victims

I've got a thing for Inuit monsters.

It's true.  I've written three adaptations of Inuit legends.  "Beneath the Ice" is an erotic short about the three-headed sea creature, the Qualupaluit. (Beneath the Ice also appears in my Kinksters collection).  A few years ago, I wrote a story about the elusive "Shadow People."  It appears in a Torquere menage anthology called "Bite Me." 

And now, something new from the good people at Untreed Reads: Mahaha's Victims.

While you probably know me as an erotica writer, Mahaha's Victims is actually a lesbian horror short.  Yes, there's some sexy content in there, but... hmm, I forgot where I was going with that.  I started thinking about the sexy content. LOL

When crafty Kooloo takes Gyta out in her truck, things get a little too hot and heavy for Gyta's liking. The attention is nice, but she just wants to go home. En route, the truck hits something big. Damned if it isn't a girl! And not just any girl--with her bare feet, sinewy limbs, blue skin, and sharp acrylic fingernails--this willowy slip could only be Mahaha, the mythological Inuit monster.

In the elders' stories, Mahaha's long fingers were able to tickle a person to death. She was a cruel creature, but easily tricked by any clever Inuk. Just lead the monster to the water and push it in. Easy enough.

Kooloo's got a plan to escape the monster's ticklish clutches: push the half-naked creature into the local watering hole. Gyta doesn't know who to feel sorrier for--Mahaha, or the boys at the bar. But can the women execute their brilliant plan before it's too late? 
A short story.


“You want a tickle?” Kooloo asked, laughing raucously. Her grin glowed blue in the moonlight. “Mahaha’s victims die with a smile.”

Gyta sucked her teeth, pushing Kooloo’s goddamn fingers away as they snuck up her thigh. “Come on, Koo, don’t be a creeper.”

“Oh, so now I’m a creeper, eh?” Kooloo backed off, leaning her shoulder against the driver’s side window. She shot Gyta a winning smile and, for a moment, the world didn’t seem so tilted. Still, Gyta grasped the truck’s door handle—a subtle threat. She asked herself what it would take, what exactly Kooloo could do, that would cause her to flee.

A nostalgic smiled spread across Kooloo’s lips like hot butter. “Hey, you remember all those stories the old folks used to tell when we were kids?” She seemed to be watching a movie in her mind. “If there’s one thing I missed in the city, it’s being around people who knew our stories—Ijiraat shape-shifters, peaceful Tuniit, Qallupilluk the child-snatcher…”

“That one scared the shit out of me when I was little.” Gyta let her fingers fall from the handle.

Kooloo snapped out of her trance, and that famous smirk plastered itself across her lips. “Nah, the scariest was Mahaha.” Inching closer, she traced her fingernails up and down Gyta’s thigh. “Just think of that wiry blue body with its sinewy limbs. Think of its long fingers and those spiky-ass nails ready to tickle you to death!”

Gyta’s throat was suddenly dry, and she tried to swallow past a lump, but couldn’t. She shrieked when Kooloo tickled her armpits, not because she could feel anything through the bulk of her parka, but because she didn’t know how far down this road she’d allow herself to travel.

“No, Koo.” Gyta tried to put her foot down, but it wasn’t easy. “I already told you, I ain’t no goddamn lezzy.”

“So what are ya, then?” Kooloo was nuzzling behind her ear now, tickling her inner thighs, teasing. “If you’re no damn lezzy, what are ya?”

Monday, April 15, 2013

On the Overwhelming Task of Being Single, "Serving Him" and The Golden Ruler

There's only one thing that gets me down about being single* (*single, in the sense of partnered but unmarried and living alone) and it might seem like a minor point.  It certainly isn't something I ever anticipated, but every time it comes up, it hits me--and it hits me fucking hard.

It's the bills.  Visa bills, phone bills, internet, cable, on and on...  So many goddamn bills.

And, actually, it's not the bills themselves.  It's not the act of paying bills.  I'm good at that.  It's the anomalies that overwhelm me. 

Last night, I lost it when I opened my Visa bill and found charges on there that were waaaaay out of whack.  This happens maybe three times a year--the phone bill jumps for no reason, the cable bill gently slides up out of my budgetary region, and I know I need to make a call.  I need to set things straight.

I need to set things straight.  On my own.  Because there's no one here to help me.  There's no one to do it for me.  Accounts are all mine, all in my name.  When something goes wrong, I have to fix it.  On my own.  Always on my own.

Don't cry for me, Argentina.  The truth is, there are worse things in the world.  But, growing up, it always pissed me off that my aunts (on my father's side, not my mother's) made this bleak assumption that I would marry some dude who would work a job so I could stand naked in a kitchen, or however that goes.  It pissed me off because I knew from a young age that a) I was queer, and b) I was feminist.

I didn't need some man to pay the bills.  I could take care of my own damn self, thank you very much.

And I have.  I've taken care of myself for... crikey, a lot of years.  Put myself through school, got an okay job, quit it to be a full-time writer... worked, cooked, clean, brought home the bacon, paid the bills... I've done it all.  I've proven to myself (and all those aunts who don't associate with me anymore anyway) that I'm perfectly capably of supporting my own little household.  I'm independent.  That's all I ever wanted to be.

Until that bill comes in the mail, and I need to call Bell for the fourth time, and I start feeling like I'm going to hyperventilate because no god not another verbal boxing match with customer service...

That's the state I was in when I wrote my story The Golden Ruler, which appears in Rachel Kramer Bussel's D/s anthology Serving Him.  It's pretty obvious, when you read the story.  In that headspace, I would have gladly given over all my personal power to anyone who would advocate on my behalf.

Maybe that's what's at the heart of this matter: I want someone to advocate for me--someone who will stand beside me always and take over when I'm too exhausted to go on.  Maybe, in my heart's mind, that's what marriage represents.  That's what I'm sad to lack: a personal advocate, an ally in all matters.  Someone who will call the utilities when I've had enough.  A true partner.


The Golden Ruler appears in Serving Him: Sexy Stories of Submission.  You can read @raquelita's take on it here: