Thursday, May 30, 2013

Guest Post: My Smutty Idea

by Lucy Felthouse

A question I get asked a lot (and I’m sure other writers do, too) is “where do you get your inspiration from?”

Mostly, it’s anywhere and everywhere. People you see, conversations you overhear, books you read, TV shows or films you watch... ideas can pop into your head at any time, and the trick is to hold on to them until you can write them down.

In the case of my tale in Smut by the Sea Volume 2, I knew what I was going to write a looong time before I sat down and did it. I visited Brighton for a conference last September, and although I only had a day and a bit to explore the place, I really liked it, liked the vibe and thought it would be the perfect place to set a smutty story. Then I went on the big wheel and my idea was formed. What if a couple went on the big wheel and got up to no good? Once the idea was in my head, it refused to leave me alone, so I decided to run with it.

Risky, sexy nookie in a public place? What could be better?! And so On the Big Wheel was born.

There’s an excerpt below. And no, before you ask, it’s not based on real life, except that I did go on the big wheel. That’s where the similarities end!


Excerpt from On the Big Wheel by Lucy Felthouse

Brigit loved the seaside. She always had, probably because visiting it was a rarity. Living in the centre of England meant that even the nearest seaside town was over an hour and a half away—and the nice resorts even further.

Which was why her boyfriend, Allen, proposed a long weekend in Brighton. He knew how fond she was of the seaside. Unsurprisingly, she agreed delightedly.

“It’s a long way,” she said. “But it doesn’t matter. We’d never go anywhere if we lamented the length of the journey.”

As it happened, the travelling wasn’t too bad. Miraculously the M1 was clear all the way down to the M25—and even that notorious motorway wasn’t experiencing its usual havoc. A straight shot south on the M23, then the A23 took them towards Brighton, and they navigated the one-way systems and lack of road signs and—eventually—found their hotel.

“Wow,” Brigit said, stretching luxuriously after getting out of the car, “that didn’t take as long as I thought. Shall we check in, dump our bags and go and explore?”

“Sounds like a plan to me,” Allen replied with a grin.

They slammed their respective car doors, grabbed the bags from the boot and headed into the hotel.

Fifteen minutes later, after using the toilet and freshening up, they were back outside.

“Nice choice of hotel, babe. I like it.” Brigit said.

“I’m glad. I researched it well,” Allen replied.

“The bed looks nice and comfy.”

“Well, I’m sure we’ll be able to give it a decent road test later.” He winked at her, and got a slap on the arm for his trouble.

“You’ve got a one-track mind, you have.”

“Well, what do you expect when I’ve got a girlfriend that looks like you?”

She giggled. “Charmer.”

“That’s me. Okay, now I’m back in good books,” Allen said, “what do you want to do? Now, I mean.

Not at bedtime.” He waggled his eyebrows.

Brigit stuck her tongue out at him before replying. “I dunno. Just look around I guess. Get our bearings. See what there is to do around here.”

They walked hand-in-hand towards the seafront, then along it in the direction of the pier. They passed the burnt out shell of the West Pier, and Brigit wondered aloud whether it would ever be rebuilt or demolished. Or would the blackened skeleton be left there forevermore, a reminder of what once was.

Soon, they drew close to Brighton Pier. Brigit turned to Allen with a grin.

“What?” he said, then followed her almost manic gaze down the length of the pier, towards a building with fake turret-type things and some very real flags. He sighed. He couldn’t be sure from here, but he thought it was bound to be the amusement arcade. “Oh, you want to go in there, do you? I wonder why?” His voice was laden with sarcasm in his last sentence.

“You know damn well why. Come on!” Brigit tugged him along the last few metres of the pavement and onto the wooden slats of the pier. “Ooh, we can have fish and chips when we come out, if you want.”


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.

Buy links:


Lucy Felthouse is a very busy woman! She writes erotica and erotic romance in a variety of subgenres and pairings, and has over seventy publications to her name, with many more in the pipeline. These include Best Bondage Erotica 2012 and 2013, and Best Women's Erotica 2013. Another string to her bow is editing, and she has edited and co-edited a number of anthologies. She owns Erotica For All, and is book editor for Cliterati. Find out more at http:// Join her on Facebook and Twitter, and subscribe to her newsletter at:

Wednesday, May 29, 2013

Meet Me At Beth's Place

Just a quickie post to let you know I'll be chatting with Elizabeth Black at Beth Wylde's Yahoo group on June 4th 2013 between noon and 6pm.  It's Pride Month and there's lots going on at so do stop by her group throughout the month... especially on Tuesday June 4th when I'll be there to chat with you!

Tuesday, May 28, 2013

IRS Crap for UnAmerican Authors

This blog post started life as an email to a fellow author who, as it turned out, had already taken all the steps outlined below. 

I forgot about it until yesterday, when I saw a fellow Canadian on one of my author groups lamenting her rejection.  She was trying to secure an ITIN from the IRS, and it didn't go so well.  That's when I remembered this email and figured it might save a lot of "International Authors" a lot of time.

I'm not a tax expert, so I can't field any questions on the topic, but I can share MY experience.  If you're a non-American author who requires an American taxation number to fill out a W8-BEN form, who knows?  My experience might help in your journey:

Okay, I'm Canadian, as you know.  Until now, I've only ever had a Canadian SIN--no affiliation with the American taxation system at all.  Recently, my American publishers have been telling me the IRS is cracking down on them when it comes to that 30% withholding tax they're supposed to impose upon people like us.  A few publishers said that if I don't secure an American taxation number issued by the IRS, they're going to have to start withholding 30% of my royalties. One publisher has told me they're not even going to do that--they're just going to take my books off the market.

So YIKES, right?

I've been putting off trying to get an ITIN for like 6 years now because I've heard the process is arduous. I've looked at the forms. They make almost no sense to me.  I know why people hate the IRS. Wow.  Also, I've heard from a lot of authors that they've been rejected after submitting their ITIN applications, and the process takes at least 4-6 weeks.  It's just mind-numbing.

So, I read this blog post (sent to me by Selena Kitt: ) by an author who had gone another route: applied for an EIN instead of an ITIN (essentially, a business number instead of an individual taxpayer number).  It blew my mind when I realized this could work for me.  

All it takes is a phone call. I did it today: I called the IRS, they asked me questions, and they gave me my EIN over the phone!  Under type of business I said self-publishing, and for product I said ebooks.  I applied as a sole proprietor and gave my name as a business name.

If you need an EIN, the number to call is 267-941-1099.  The prompts were weird and I ended up choosing something irrelevant and being transferred, but that guy told me I should have selected option 3 for International EIN.

I was on hold for 20 minutes, but the interview process took maybe 5 minutes and it was easy. They ask you questions from this form (SS-4):  I had that form filled out on my computer screen and basically just read the answers off to her.  There's more info here:

By the end of the call she'd given me my EIN right over the phone.

Hope this helps. I've heard of way too many writers being turned down when they apply for an ITIN.  An EIN is the way to go, yo!


Monday, May 27, 2013

Amazon reviewers wanted for The Big Book of Orgasms

Who likes reading erotica and expressing their opinions?

I got an email from editrix extraordinaire Rachel Kramer Bussel saying that she's got review copies available for her upcoming anthology, The Big Book of Orgasms. Interested?  Here's what she had to say:

I wanted to let you know that I'm currently signing up Amazon reviewers for The Big Book of Orgasms, for print copies (US only) or Kindle editions - people should email me here at orgasmantho at with either their U.S. mailing address for a hard copy with "Amazon" in the subject line or their email address for the Kindle edition with "Kindle" in the subject line. By doing so, they acknowledge they have an account they've made a purchase from before, and that they are willing to post their review within 6 weeks of receipt. If you want to pass the info on to your friends and fans, all the details are in this blog post:

Remember to send your email to Rachel, not to me.  And don't post your address in the comments here.  That's just a bad idea generally.

K, Giselle out!

Friday, May 24, 2013

An Excellent, Approachable Guide to Non-Monogamy

I already wrote a great deal about Tristan Taormino's book Opening Up at Oh Get A Grip! (read my post here: but now that I've actually finished the book, I figured I'd share my Amazon-length review with Donuts & Desires readers.  Here it is:

An excellent, approachable guide to non-monogamy, incorporating a variety of models. Includes interviews with diverse individuals in open relationships, so the reader gets to hear about the joys and challenges of non-monogamy straight from those who are living the life.

Whenever I mention Opening Up to friends, they assume it's sleazy.  It's not.  This book is written in an entertaining and straightforward fashion, but it's not a "how to get a bunch of people into bed" book.  It's about creating a sustainable style of open relationship through negotiation, transparency, and understanding. 

Opening Up speaks across a broad spectrum. Whether you're into BDSM or you're an asexual romantic (or both), your needs are addressed in this book.

I recommend Opening Up highly to anyone. Even if you never have any intention of living non-monogamously, do read Opening Up.  There's something in this book for everyone.

Sunday, May 19, 2013

Wet and Wild FREE READ: Nice Ice, Baby!

This post gets very wet

First off, WOW Skye Warren's blog hop image is hot.  I'm actually having trouble concentrating right now because I can't stop staring at that girl's boobs. #queergirlproblems

Maybe I should have added the image AFTER I wrote my post.

Actually, you know what?  Here's what I'm going to do: instead of telling you about my books and making you feel like you're being marketed to, I'm going to post a FREE READ.  A wet and wild read, one of my "erotic letters"--I started my career writing this style of erotica, and I still love going back to it.

So, here you go:

Nice Ice, Baby!

by Giselle Renarde

Last summer was killer for my Chris and I, in our stuffy non-air-conditioned one-bedroom apartment.  The heat and humidity made me so cranky I thought I was going to rip Chris’s head off…until he came up with a fail-safe way to keep me cool.

I’d heard of couples playing with ice before, but it never occurred to me that Chris and I might try.  Now that we’ve done it, boy, I wish we’d started sooner.  Nothing else cools me down quite like an ice cube between Chris’s fingers melting all down the front of my body.

He starts by covering the old chair in our living room with towels and sits me down on it.  Then he goes to the kitchen and fills a bowl with an entire tray of ice cubes.  At first, we thought one or two would do the trick, but we quickly discovered that…well, ice melts.  You need plenty of cubes.

Sitting on the sturdy old footrest by the chair, Chris takes one piece of ice between his fingers.  Or, more accurately, he claws into the ice with his short fingernails.  Remember, ice is cold.  He sets the cube on my neck and it melts in an instant.  He follows the droplets down my chest, but when the water streams between my naked breasts, he takes a different route. 

Chris circles the ice across my breasts, back and forth, until he reaches one of my nipples.  Once he gets to that sensitive spot, he circles the ice around that soft pinkish flesh until my nipple really feels the cold.  It’s an amazing thing to watch, really.  He goes around and around, and my flesh tightens into a bud.  My nipples never get so hard as when they’re subjected to Chris’s wonderful ice torture.

When the first nipple’s hard, Chris moves on to the next.  By this time, the cube has melted down to a drizzling nub and he usually pulls another from the bowl.  As he gets my tit all firm and erect, the ice melts down my belly.  Little droplets stream into my pubic hair, and I always get a moment of thrill the first time a bit of cold water hits my clit. 

As wonderful as the ice feels against my breasts, it’s a whole different story between my legs.  When I gasp my approval, Chris knows what I want.  He slides the ice down my belly and I tremble as cold water streams between my pussy lips.  Instead of darting straight at my clit, he takes a little detour and circles around my thighs.  My pussy gets happy, because it knows what comes next.

Strangely, the ice doesn’t feel terribly cold against my skin.  That’s what surprised me the most, when we first tried it: I thought the ice would freeze my flesh and I’d be in pain.  It’s really not that way at all…except when Chris draws the melting cube up my thigh and runs it up along my clit.  That’s the only time I really feel the cold.  He rubs me with ice, up and down against my clit, and it melts down my lower lips.  In less than a minute it’s colder than I can handle.

I tell Chris my clit can’t stand any more cold, and now comes the moment that excites us both the most: he slides the ice between my pussy lips and presses it inside of me.   

How can I describe the feeling?  

It’s like my pussy is so damn hot not even the coldest substance in our freezer can contend with it.  Okay, I admit, sometimes if Chris presses a particularly large ice cube up my snatch and I’m not quite ready, my pussy goes on auto-pilots and immediately ejects it.  But that doesn’t happen very often, and when it does we both get a good laugh.  Imagine an ice cube shooting out from between my thighs and whacking my boyfriend straight in the chest!

Even if we have an escapee, Chris just presses it back in, and by then my pussy’s acclimated and ready to accept more.  And more is exactly what it gets.  Chris pushes cube after melting cube into my pussy.  As the old ones melt, sometimes Chris gets splashed when he pushes new ones in, but that’s all part of the fun. 

Usually, we can fit six ice cubes inside my pussy.  That seems excessive, I know, but you give it a try and you’ll see how surprisingly easy it is to fill your pussy with ice.  Seriously…try it!  There’s nothing like a little ice play on a hot afternoon.  I like doing it because it seems out of the ordinary and a little naughty.  Chris says he loves playing with ice because I end up sparkling like a diamond with droplets of water.  It’s worth doing just for the way he looks at my body when I’m all wet and full of melting ice.

The End
"Nice Ice, Baby!" appears in Secret Confessions: 36 Erotic Encounters by Giselle Renarde, available from eXcessica Publishing, as well as many vendors like Amazon and All Romance.

And now it's time to talk about prizes!

Skye Warren is offering up a $100 gift card to Victoria's Secret and a digital gift basket.

What do I have for you?

I'll be drawing 10 winners, each of whom will receive digital copies of the first THREE stories in my popular Wedding Heat series: One in the Hand, Two in the Bush, and Skinny Dipping.

To find out more about the Wedding Heat series, check out the website: It's like a TV series, but in book form!

To enter my Wedding Heat giveaway and Skye Warren's grand prize drawings, leave a comment below, including your email address.  If you don't know what to say, why not tell me about any wedding-related sexy-time fantasies you might have.  Who knows?  Maybe your idea will be incorporated into the Wedding Heat series! 

Contest closes midnight May 25, 2013.

Visit more authors on the hop:

Wednesday, May 15, 2013

Lipstick Lovers Takes the Cake at the National Leather Awards

This year, the prize for best anthology at the National Leather Awards went to an Xcite collection called Lipstick Lovers.  This collection includes 20 erotic lesbian stories, like my little butch/femme ditty "In Pearls."  In Pearls caters to my June Cleaver fetish, complete with the vacuuming in heels... and in pearls.  It's a delight to find out the collection has received recognition.

All the winning books are listed below. Have a gander:

NLA-I AWards 2012 Winners

National Leather Association: International, a leading organization for activists in the pansexual SM/leather community, announced the winners for excellence in literary works in SM/leather/fetish writing published in 2012 at its Annual General Meeting in Oklahoma City, OK on May 3-5, 2013 and held during Tribal Fire. The judges received a greater number of nominations this year than ever before and judging in most categories was quite difficult with such exemplary pieces of writing.

Winners of the Geoff Mains Non-fiction Book Award are Lee Harrington and Mollena Williams for “Playing Well With Others: Your Field Guide to Discovering, Exploring and Navigating the Kink, Leather and BDSM Communities.” Honorable mention in this category goes to Tristan Taormino (ed.) for “The Ultimate Guide to Kink: BDSM, Role Play and the Erotic Edge.”

In the John Preston Short Fiction category, the winner is Annie Cox for "Muriel" (Pink Flamingo Press). Honorable mention for short story goes to I.G. Frederick & Patrick for "“Aunt” Grace" (Smashwords Edition).

Winner of the Samois Anthology Award is Elizabeth Coldwell (ed.), "LIPSTICK LOVERS" (Xcite Books). The honorable mention goes to Wes Royal (ed.), for "Whatever Lola Wants (and Other Wicked Tales)" (FDC Publication).

Victorious in the Pauline Reage Novel category is L. M. Somerton for "The Portrait' (Total-E-Bound). The judges were unable to concur on second place honors this year with 27 novels submitted for consideration. Honorable mentions therefore go to The Masters of Falcon's Fantasies by Cassidy Browning & Reggie Alexander (Siren Publishing), Power Exchange by A. J. Rose (Voodoo Lily Press), Eve Portrait of Submission by Steve Maser (Pink Flamingo Publications), Beyond the Edge by Elizabeth Lister (MLR Press) and A Forbidden Love by Lee Dorsey (Pink Flamingo Publications).

The winner of the Cynthia Slater Non-fiction Article Award for the second year in a row is Mollena Williams, this time for "On Collars And Closure and Owning Myself" which appeared in her blog The Perverted Negress at Ms. Williams also earned second place in this category for "Digging in the Dirt - The Lure of Taboo Role Play”, which appeared in Tristan Taormino’s (ed.) “The Ultimate Guide to Kink: BDSM, Role Play and the Erotic Edge” (Cleis Press).

Nominations for literary works published in 2013 will open late this year.

Congratulations to all who won and thank you to all who entered!

Tuesday, May 14, 2013

Guest Post: The Beach House by Bel Anderson

Hi Giselle and thanks for inviting me onto your blog! 

With the summer coming up (erm… well, with the summer supposedly coming up if you live here in the UK) it’s been great fun writing and reading about the seaside! Victoria and Lucy, the editors of Smut by the Sea 2, have done a great job in choosing stories that fit well together yet are very different from each other. 

My story, The Beach House, is a love story – a love story with some hot sex, naturally! We discover early on that Cally is desperate to see her first crush -‘the one who got away’ – again and, of course, he turns out to be equally pleased to see her. The story is set on the windy north Norfolk coast amongst the sand-dunes, a place I have visited and enjoyed. It is impossible not to be ‘blown away’ by the wild expanse of sea and sand up there, especially with gusts of about 60 mph! The sun does shine there sometimes, though, and Cally remembers summers spent there at the beach house as a child and in her teens. The reality of the old beach house is somewhat different, but it doesn’t matter because the two of them have some new memories to make…

Excerpt from The Beach House, by Bel Anderson

I step over the threshold and he reaches past me to flick the light switch, producing an electric-shock-type reaction from me as his arm brushes my shoulder, and nothing at all from the bulb in the ceiling.

              “Maybe the electricity’s off,” he says, flicking the switch a couple of times for good measure.
It is. The old card-meter is card-less. Bang goes any vision I may have been entertaining of a cosy fire and us writhing naked on the rug in front of it. I remind myself that it was never going to happen anyway; only in my filthy mind. In any case, if there still is a rug, it’ll be full of dust and goodness only knows what else. 

              “Oh well.” He looks at me, his green eyes clear and so, so beautiful in the half-light of the hallway. I make a snap decision. I reach up to touch his face and then slip my fingers slowly into the luxurious thickness of his hair. I stand up on tiptoe and I pull his head down to mine. He doesn’t resist. His breath, warm and clean, mingles with my own as his lips part and slowly, tentatively, find mine. A small moan of lust escapes me as his hot tongue slides delicately, almost politely, between them. I return the pressure as my chest heaves against his and suddenly he’s devouring me, his hands roaming from my hair to my face, to my throat and back again. I bury my fingers in handfuls of his thick hair, stroke the plane of his cheek, finger the smooth line of his jaw; everything I’ve been longing to touch from the moment I saw him this afternoon. I close my eyes and let all thoughts fall away. I just want to feel.

Bel has previously been published in anthologies by Xcite books and has recently had stories published in Smut Alfresco and Smut by the Sea Volume 2. She is working on a non-erotic novel and also an anthology of erotic stories.
You can find her blog here:  and her work here:

Monday, May 13, 2013

You Know Her, You Love Her...

Inventing Herself by Sommer Marsden

Sophie Calhoun has a good job writing for a hot women’s magazine. Her latest assignment is to do an article about how a strong, confident woman can look deeper into herself to find her centre. The only problem is Sophie feels lost. On a whim one morning, looking for the answers to her unwritten article and the silent turmoil in her heart, she takes a hike. In the wilderness she finds a very large man sitting alone, calm and still and smiling – everything Sophie wants to be. When he opens his eyes and that smile is directed at her, Sophie begins to find herself…

Available from:



‘Now we move into downward dog.’ Joel’s rich caramel voice smoothed over Sophie.

If only she could feel gooey and bendy like caramel. Instead, she felt awkward and clumsy. She
pushed back with the heels of her hands as she’d been instructed. Tried to “sink” into the stretch
with the heels of her feet.

All she could think was what if I slip? What does my ass look like? And, of course, who farted?
Turned out that wasn’t so much of a myth. Someone had let one go and everyone was acting as if it
was no big deal at all.

Which, technically, it wasn’t. It was just a fart, after all. Everyone had gas at some point in their lif –
‘You’re drifting,’ Joel said, his voice very close to her. So close it made Sophie go rigid. ‘Let me help
you straighten your pose.’

He stepped up between her spread legs and settled his hands on her hips. Then he proceeded to
move her a little here, a little there, until the stretch blazed up her calves and the backs of her
hamstrings. It blazed somewhere else too, Sophie noticed as he lingered, tweaking her pose.
When he stepped back from between her legs, his hand stayed on her lower back for a beat before
being removed. ‘Good,’ Joel said.

He was big and tall and obviously fit. A shock of dark – almost black – hair and grey eyes. His voice
was as smoky and sensual as his body.

Sophie felt colour come to her face that had nothing to do with yoga or being inverted. The class
lowered slowly to a plank pose and her muscles started to tremble. In her mind’s eye it was easy
to put a face to it now. This man, down between her legs, his mouth on her. His fingers separating
and skating over her nether lips. Finding her slick opening and plunging deep, curling to tease her G-
spot until she gasped. Then taking her own juices, running up to find the needy swell of her clitoris.
Circling and circling until plunging back into her cunt to stroke her most secret places again, his
mouth sucking, his tongue nudging, licking, licking, licking until …

‘Now lower down into cobra pose,’ Joel said.

Sophie did, but as she did a noise burst out of her. Her body, on the verge actually coming, supplied
the small blip and flutter deep inside of an almost orgasm. The sound was half sigh, half moan, and
very, very sultry. Way too sultry for muscle stretching.

Joel chuckled softly. ‘Glad to know you’re enjoying class, Sophie. We’re glad to have you.’

She counted the heartbeats until class was over, she was so mortified. When Joel finally told them
to stand and everyone gave what seemed to be the customary “Namaste” a woman in green
leggings and a bright blue pullover whispered, ‘Don’t feel so bad. He has that effect on most of the
newcomers. Once he touches someone … they’re toast.’

Sophie tried to smile and waited to self-combust.

She nearly set a record changing back into her work clothes, but when she came out Joel called out
to her.

‘I was wondering –’ he said, sort of grinning at her.

Sophie caught the gaze of the green-legging woman. She was smiling, her look knowing.

‘Could I … call you? Take you out? Bring you wine and woo you with wild yoga tales?’ He smiled at
her and the lust that smile inspired struck right down through the centre of her like a lightning bolt.
‘Um, yeah … sure. In fact –’ She broke off, thinking maybe she shouldn’t say what she was about to
say. But fuck it. This whole “finding her centre” thing had taken her very close to thinking she was

nuts. Might as well act nuts, right? Maybe Joel was that missing something. ‘How about you come to
my place tonight. Bring that wine you mentioned and I can make a nice steak or – wait – do you eat

He nodded, eyes flashing with amusement. ‘I do. But thank you for asking.’

‘Good,’ she hurried on. Yes, this was it. This was a good thing. Maybe she was just in need of a date.
Maybe she was just horny. ‘And maybe a salad and whatever. We can just … we can talk. Get to
know one another.’

‘It’s a date,’ he said. He gave her his number so she could text her address.

‘Yes. It is a date,’ she said and hurried out of the studio. Kate was going to kill her!



Sommer Marsden’s been called “…one of the top storytellers in the erotica genre” (Violet Blue),
“Unapologetic” (Alison Tyler), “…the whirling dervish of erotica” (Craig J. Sorensen), and "Erotica
royalty..." (Lucy Felthouse).

Her erotic novels include Restless Spirit, Boys Next Door, Big Bad, Learning to Drown, Wanderlust
and the Zombie Exterminator series. Sommer currently writes erotica and erotic romance for Xcite
Books, eXcessica, Ellora's Cave, Pretty Things Press, Resplendence Publishing and Mischief Books.
The wine-swigging, dachshund-owning, wannabe runner author writes work that runs the gamut
from bondage to zombies to humor.

Sommer's short works can be found in well over one hundred (and counting) erotic anthologies. Her
short stories have also been included numerous adult and romance magazines--both in print and

Friday, May 10, 2013

We Can Work It Out

Last week at Oh Get A Grip! I came clean about some of the relationship messiness that's been going on between Sweet and I. Read it here if you want the backstory:  

Is it weird that I share more of my life with my online community (that's YOU, by the way) than with my "real life" friends?  Or is that the new normal?

Anyhoo, just thought I'd give you all an update.  After not talking, almost a month(?!), our anniversary struck.  May Day is the anniversary of our first date.  As of May 1, 2013, Sweet and I have been together five years.  Whether that's a long time or the blink of an eye is relative, I suppose, to the reader's experience.  For me, I feel like Sweet and I just met, and I feel like I've known her forever.

So, despite the fact that we'd been out of contact, out of sorts and maybe a little bit out to lunch, I expected Sweet to surprise me.  I don't know why.  I guess because she's a romantic--much more so than I am.  I thought she'd do something nice to commemorate the occasion.

When I didn't hear from her by late afternoon, I started calling all her numbers.  I realized that, not knowing how long her evil vacation was supposed to last, I had no idea where in the world she was.  Well, somewhere in Canada.  But Canada's a damn big country.

I was angry all over again.  And then I forced myself out of the house for the volunteer work I'd already committed to.  There's something about talking with women escaping domestic violence that always helps put my personal shit in perspective.  When I got home, I wrote Sweet this letter:

I wanted to acknowledge our anniversary.  I didn't want you thinking I'd forgotten.  I haven't forgotten it, and I haven't forgotten you.

I'm not sure where we stand, which is why I didn't know the best way to acknowledge this day.  I didn't know if I should be celebrating or mourning.

Then I realized I should feel grateful.  Because no matter what happens, I've been lucky enough to spend five years with the most beautiful woman I will ever meet.  I have learned so much from you.  Most importantly, I've learned to value myself.

I five years, you've had a more positive impact on me than anyone else in my life.  No matter how our relationship proceeds--as a romance, as a friendship, or as a memory--I will always love you.  You mean the world to me.  I want you in my life forever.  Hopefully that can happen in some way. I trust you enough that I feel confident leaving those decisions in your hands.

I love you with all my heart.
Happy Anniversary.

Who knew I could be so reasonable, huh?

Sweet and I never forget that we love each other, but sometimes our communications get cluttered and we have misunderstandings.  It sucks and it hurts, but ultimately we need each other.  We're better together.

In order to proceed without being a total jerk, I had to drop my fear of change.  I had to be open to the possibility that I might lose everything, or I might not, but neither of those options could destroy me.

We finally FINALLY sat down together yesterday to talk out a lot of stuff that needed talking out.  I was sure Sweet would break up with me.  She was sure we'd just yell at each other.  But we didn't yell.  And we didn't break up.  We talked and we listened and we really heard each other.  I saw Sweet cry for the first time in our five-year history.

The talking and listening and hearing were easier than usual, for me, because I wasn't holding on too tightly.  I wasn't focused on WHAT I WANT.  Instead, we both considered what's best for us.

When Sweet said, "I don't want to break up with you," I felt a weight lift from my shoulders.  I was really angry with her, and I've still got a bit of that residual anger, but I didn't want to destroy something we've spent five years building because I was mad.

Our lives are complicated.  We're bound to piss each other off sometimes, and argue, and cry, but as long as those arguments are productive and transformative, I'm on board.


Oh, and here's a May-themed madrigal just for the hell of it:

Wednesday, May 8, 2013

Call for Submissions: Porn Studies (a new journal dedicated to the study of pornography)

Another call for submissions!  

I lifted this one from Tristan Taormino's site. On twitter, she said "Please share!" and if there's one thing I'm good at, it's telling other writers about new opportunities.  So, for the academics in the crowd, a new journal devoted to the study of porn:

The editors, Feona Attwood (Middlesex University) and Clarissa Smith (University of Sunderland), and Routledge are pleased to announce the launch of a new journal devoted to the study of pornography.
Porn Studies is the first dedicated, international, peer-reviewed journal to critically explore those cultural products and services designated as pornographic and their cultural, economic, historical, institutional, legal and social contexts. Porn Studies will publish innovative work examining specifically sexual and explicit media forms, their connections to wider media landscapes and their links to the broader spheres of (sex) work across historical periods and national contexts.

Porn Studies is an interdisciplinary journal informed by critical sexuality studies and work exploring the intersection of sexuality, gender, race, class, age and ability. It focuses on developing knowledge of pornographies past and present, in all their variations and around the world. Because pornography studies are still in their infancy we are also interested in discussions that focus on theoretical approaches, methodology and research ethics. Alongside articles, the journal includes a forum devoted to shorter observations, developments, debates or issues in porn studies, designed to encourage exchange and debate.

Porn Studies invites submissions for publication, commencing with its first issue in Spring 2014. Articles should be between 5000 and 8000 words. Forum submissions should be 500-1500 words. Book reviews should be between 800 and 1500 words. Submissions will be refereed anonymously by at least two referees.

In the first instance submissions, queries and suggestions should be sent to:

Tuesday, May 7, 2013

Masturbation Month FREE READ: Solo Girls (Stroking, Squirting, Geek Girls and Vibes) #NSFW

Solo Girls

by Giselle Renarde

Even as a lesbian, I never understood the “Solo Girls” category on porn sites.  I always thought, “Why would I want to watch a mousy amateur play with her pussy when I could be watching two or three gorgeous porn girls licking each other’s fine forms?”  It never made sense to me, so I always passed on the “Solo Girls” in favour of “Lesbian Sex.”

The other day, I got curious about the solos.  I started wondering if they did what I did when I got myself alone in a room.  Would they just be squeezing their little titties for the camera or would they really go at their pussies with giant dildos?  I was amazed by what I discovered.

The first solo I watched was a really hot geek girl. Not at all what I expected to find on a porn site. She was perched backwards on a sleek black loveseat that seemed to be inside a greenhouse.  There were tropical flowers all over the place.  I loved her right away, with her dark-rimmed glasses, rockabilly red lingerie, and her quirky black haircut.

She kneeled on the loveseat.  Leaning on the back, she showed off her lovely ass for the camera.  She put her fingers in her mouth and sucked them before reaching down to shift her thong out of the way.  Her pussy lips were clean and perfect as she plunged her fingers between them.

I’d never seen any girl in life or in porn fuck herself the way she did.  Thrusting three fingers inside, she working her hole hard.  From what I could see, it looked like she was rubbing the soft, wet flesh right inside her pussy.  In less than a minute, she started with soft whimpers.  Soon after, she exploded with pleasured cries.  Her pussy pumped clear liquid all over the black fabric of the loveseat.

I’d never seen a girl squirt in real life.  I couldn’t believe my eyes.  It spilled across her hand, soaking her thong and her thighs.  Her pussy made pulpy sounds as she squirted up a storm.  It just kept coming all over the little sofa.  It was awesome.

But that was the end of the video.  A mere quickie by female masturbation standards.  She’d finished herself off already, and I’d hardly started yet!  But watching that gorgeous geek squirt all over the place got me so wet I brought out my vibe and clicked on another “Solo Girl.”

Dirty blonde hair with golden highlights.  Big, natural, naked boobs with perky pink nipples. This one was girl-next-door pretty with the kind of body I wish my girl next door had.  Lifting her huge tits to her mouth, she licked her nipples in alternation.  That got me so turned on.  I love watching girls lick nipples, whether they’re theirs or mine or somebody else’s.

As she sucked her own breasts, one pretty little hand snuck inside her panties.  She squirmed as she stroked her concealed clit, then tossed her head back.  When she slipped out of her baby blue underwear, I took mine off too.  She spread her legs for the camera.  That girl had the prettiest pussy I’d ever seen.  It was hairless, it was flawless, and it was gleaming with juice.  Her lips were small and white, hiding a tight pink slit just drooling for the dildo she picked up off the bed.

When she powered up her vibe, I did the same.  I held mine against my clit as usual, and watched the girl for new ideas.  She slid her smooth vibrating cock against her lips, stroking all that pussy juice up to her clit and down her slit.  She threw her head back and moaned as she rubbed the outside of her snatch.

Then she went in.  I followed suit as she popped that big vibrator inside. She plunged it in slow, then pulled it out slower, bringing her tit to her lips for a thorough lick.  After a few thorough ins and outs, she ploughed her cunt with the big toy.  I did the same, bringing my feet up onto my chair and forcing my dildo in and out of my pussy.  Fast.  Usually, I just worked my clit with the vibe, but this girl was really on to something.  It felt so good as it stroked my insides that I came as I watched.

The best thing about female anatomy is multiple orgasms.  I slowed down with the dildo, but I knew I’d come again as I watched the girl next door.  She had a perfectly pink asshole, I noticed.  If she’d been on my bed, I would have flipped her upside down and eaten her ass until she screamed.  But she wasn’t in my bed.  She was on my computer.  So instead of licking her hole, I watched as she snuck her finger down there and traced circles around it.

Of course, she made it look so hot I couldn’t resist fingering my own ass.  She penetrated her asshole with her finger, poking it in and out in time with the dildo in her cunt. 

With my big vibe still quivering inside my pussy, I put some jelly on my finger and stuck it up my asshole.  As I penetrated my ass, I was astounded to realize I could feel the dildo inside my cunt.  My finger and my vibe were very close.  Side by side.

I watched my solo girl and did what she did.  The harder she ploughed her pussy, the harder I went at mine.  My ass ring clamped down tight on my finger.  The porn beauty was coming, so I let it all out.  I came for a second time in a matter of minutes.  My pussy trembled.  My asshole locked on my finger.  I cried out at the top of my lungs, praising the gods of porn.

We came together, my Solo Girl and me.  The release felt incredible and I learned a thing or two.  Too bad I went so many years thinking they were all drones with nothing to give me.  Now every time I want to get off, I bring a Solo Girl along for the ride.

The End

"Solo Girls" appears in Secret Confessions: 36 Erotic Encounters by Giselle Renarde, available from eXcessica Publishing, as well as many vendors like Amazon and All Romance.

Now also available in print: