Yay! Yay! Yay! Obsessed gets 4 stars from RT Book Reviews

I'm in with the bigtime authors in the must-read RT Book Reviews and they liked Obsessed! I'm so thrilled. They gave it 4 stars!

In the 20 novellas in this collection, obsession is the name of the game. The pages sizzle and the words smoke. Readers will love the variety and the intensity of assignations, ranging from a foreign city to a small cottage under a hurricane onslaught, with a varying mix of locales in between.

Two standouts include: “One Night,” by Kayla Perrin, in which a lonely assistant sets out to seduce her boss for one magical night in Paris. In “Storm Surge” by Teresa Noelle Roberts, two lovers find extra magic in the coming hurricane. (CLEIS, Aug., 248 pp., $14.95)



Order Obsessed from:

Amazon

Kindle edition (available August 15th)

Barnes & Noble

Powells

IndieBound

Cleis Press

BOOK PARTY!!!

August 25, 7-9 pm
JOINT BOOK PARTY FOR OBSESSED and THE LOST
Join editor Rachel Kramer Bussel and Obsessed contributors, along with The Lost author Caridad Piñeiro, and Tied Up Events for a fabulous book party celebrating The Lost and Obsessed: Erotic Romance for Women! Free cupcakes, snacks, posters and toy giveaways and more! Free goodie bags from The Pleasure Chest! Featuring readings by Rachel, Caridad and Obsessed contributors Logan Belle and Jennifer Peters. Free, 21+
Fontana's, 105 Eldridge Street, NYC
obsessederoticromance.com
caridad.com
tiedupevents.com
The Pleasure Chest

Call for submissions: Bisexual women's anthology

Another new one. Hotel erotica is now closed and this one and the erotic spanking anthology are open. Please support my books so I can keep editing more anthologies - this will be my 50th!


Call for Submissions
Bisexual Women themed erotic anthology (title TK)
Edited by Rachel Kramer Bussel
To be published by Cleis Press
Deadline: September 1, 2011 (earlier submissions preferred)

Editor Rachel Kramer Bussel is looking for erotic stories featuring bisexual women in all their diversity. The more creative, memorable and hot, the better. Please avoid clichés, or if you're going to use them, turn them on their heads. I will leave the definition of "bisexual" up to you; the final anthology will feature a range of characters, settings and scenarios, from those in monogamous relationships to those in open relationships, single women, bicurious, etc. Plots centered around identity politics are not desired; these are erotic stories first and foremost. Please keep in mind that with an anthology centered around a theme such as this, my job as editor is to create a widely varied collection, so the more unique your story, the better its chances. Stories can be told in first, second or third person POV, but should focus on the experience of a bisexual woman (whether she identifies as "bisexual" or not). Though less desired, stories from the viewpoint of the partner of a bisexual woman will be considered. Authors of all genders and sexual orientations are welcome. Please see any of my previous anthologies, such as Orgasmic and Fast Girls, for an idea of the kinds of stories I'm looking for.

Payment: Contributors will receive $50/story and 2 copies of the anthology on publication. Contract is for one-time rights.

How to submit: Include story title and byline at top of first page. Send double spaced Times or Times New Roman 12 point black font Word document (.doc only, NOT .docx) OR RTF of 1,500-4,000 word story. Indent the first line of each paragraph half an inch and double space (regular double spacing, do not add extra lines between paragraphs or do any other irregular spacing). US grammar (double quotation marks around dialogue, etc.) required. Include your legal name (and pseudonym if applicable), mailing address, and 50 word or less bio in the third person to biwomenantho@gmail.com. If you are using a pseudonym, please provide your real name and pseudonym and make it clear which one you’d like to be credited as. I will be accepting stories on a rolling basis so the sooner you submit, the better. Cleis Press has final approval over the manuscript so you can expect a final answer by February 2012.

I’ve been seeing numerous recent submissions that do not conform to my guidelines. They are there for a reason and submissions not meeting these guidelines will not be considered. Please read and follow them or risk your submission being rejected or returned for reformatting. If you have any questions, please contact me at biwomenantho@gmail.com

About the editor: Rachel Kramer Bussel (http://www.rachelkramerbussel.com) is the editor of 38 anthologies, including Gotta Have It, Surrender, Best Bondage Erotica 2011, Bottoms Up, Spanked, The Mile High Club, Do Not Disturb, He’s on Top, She’s on Top, Tasting Him, Tasting Her, Crossdressing, Dirty Girls, and is Best Sex Writing Series Editor. She is Senior Editor at Penthouse Variations, writes a column for SexIs Magazine, and hosted and curated In The Flesh Reading Series in New York for five years. Her writing has been published in over 100 anthologies, including Susie Bright’s X: The Erotic Treasury, Best American Erotica 2004 and 2006, and Zane’s Purple Panties and the New York Times bestseller Succulent: Chocolate Flava II. She has written for Cosmopolitan, The Daily Beast, Fresh Yarn, Mediabistro, Newsday, New York Post, Penthouse, Time Out New York, Zink and other publications.

My gay erotica stories in Hot Jocks and Brief Encounters

2 new Cleis Press gay erotica anthologies have stories by me in them! "Muscle Memory," a weightlifting and BDSM story (with chess references, see below!) is in Hot Jocks: Gay Erotic Stories and "The Most Unexpected Places" is in Brief Encounters: 69 Hot Gay Shorts. I haven't seen either book yet (very overdue for a visit to my po box but might have to wait til after London). Only found out that my story was in it from this post. I love short shorts and this one I remember actually working on at the much-missed now-closed Village Tart. (Pichet Ong, please feed me!) Because in a week or month, let alone a year, so many words pass through my head, I sometimes forget what I've written. How I managed to work Glenlivet, which I barely know what it is, into "Muscle Memory," I have no clue. I'm always extra honored to have my gay male erotica published because I'm not a gay man. It feels like it's more of an accomplishment. Which should spur me on to write a story inspired by a little game my ex and I used to play, turned totally on its head, that I've only been working on for, oh, about four months. Time to whip my lazy fingers into shape. (That is just how I talk to myself. I've eked out a few things, but all the stuff I haven't done is what I remember, and what I will hopefully use to get me back on track with my writing. I'm fully aware that nobody else cares which anthologies I submit to or don't, but again, I maintain that for me, writing is always a selfish act, and I want to keep trying as hard as I can. When I don't, I feel like a loser.)



From "Muscle Memory"

With each bench press, Todd felt himself grow not just more powerful but more virile—which helped him fight back the tears that still threatened to tumble out, even as he hoisted the heavy weight over his head, when he let his mind wander back to Steve. Three months after their breakup, the memory of their relationship was still fresh—not to mention raw. Steve had accused him of being too young, immature and weak, hurling accusations and Todd’s clothes at him across the room he’d practically moved into. I’ll show him weak, he thought, as he grunted, pressing one-hundred-twenty pounds above his head, his teeth gritted, shoulders and arms straining. He sucked in a breath, then let it out as he lowered the weight and began again, until his set of twenty reps was done.

He lowered the bar and sat up, reaching for a towel to wipe the sweat from his brow. Todd wasn’t a natural bodybuilding type; the biggest muscle he liked to exercise was his brain, going over chess combinations endlessly, studying the great masters like Bobby Fischer, Alexander Alekhine and Mikhail Botvinnik. He’d read once that the serious players like Garry Kasparov could burn major calories when they played in a simul, moving around a circle to do battle in the ancient game with dozens of players at once; at first that idea appealed to Todd much more than weightlifting, but the latter had grown on him as he’d realized that it was as much about brainpower as biceps.

Chess was familiar, comforting, a welcome challenge. He loved getting so lost in studying an old game that he knew it by heart, investigating it over and over again like a detective would a particularly thorny clue in a crime. That was his favorite kind of muscle memory, where he knew the moves by heart so well that he could focus on fantasizing about new strategies to breathe life into what, on paper, was just a bunch of numbers and letters spelling out the moves. He could hold almost thirty moves in his head a once—a skill that had earned him the coveted grandmaster status—as he sat for hours at a time, silent, trying to outwit his opponent.

Steve had been drawn to him, as he’d always said, for the furrow in his brow, the way he could practically see Todd’s brain calculating, but that same trait had been what had ultimately driven Steve away. “You live in your head too much; you forget about the rest of us in the real world trying to enjoy our bodies too.” The words still stung, especially because Steve had never complained in the bedroom, where Todd had always submitted to whatever scenes Steve cooked up, kneeling at his feet or crawling around on a leash, sucking him off at a moment’s notice, taking a beating from his belt without a whimper. Remembering that last conversation made Todd want to punch someone. Instead, he took a sip from the water fountain, put down the weights and moved to another part of the gym to do the next best thing—strapping on gloves and beating the hell out of a punching bag.



From "The Most Unexpected Places"

It’s bad enough to run into an ex while on a tropical cruise, even worse to run into your ex’s ex, but that’s exactly what happened to me. Given the options of going to Minneapoils for Christmas and facing my family for the first time in four years solo, or having fun in the sun with as many gay boys as I could handle, I chose the obvious.

I figured all those strangers would help get my mind off Parker. But one of the first people I ran into was Carlos, Parker’s ex. I’d heard all about Carlos, had even met him once, but it’d been a long time until I could even hear his name without wincing. He’d come before me, and I knew he’d always resented the fact that I’d “stolen” Parker away, even though they’d been split up for three months.

Call for Submissions: Erotic spanking anthology

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"The Weight" to be published in Best Bondage Erotica 2012

Lately I am trying to be lighter, physically and mentally. I'm working on getting to my goal weight and fitting (better) into this slinky tight tan dress I bought that's basically the same dress I have in gray but is tighter for whatever reason. Mentally, well, it's tough. Yesterday was a day of such highs and lows. I waved like a fool on the Staten Island Ferry looking for my friend, watched two little kids instantly bond over drawing, laughed over nothing with friends old and new, and went to my friend Cheryl's wake. I was okay...as long as I didn't walk by the big box with my friend's body inside it. I could admire the gigantic, bigger-than-I've-ever-seen flower displays. I even took a prayer card even though my thoughts on prayer are a bit muddled.

I'm working on purging both belongings and negative, unhelpful thoughts, along with the extra pounds, and talking to my friends and seeing how they each deal with their grief was telling. I don't think there's a right way or wrong way, and I teeter between being so outraged for Cheryl, that her life was cut short, and recognizing that my outage isn't going to bring her back. I can't feel light about her death, in any sense of the word, but I am honored to have known her and heartened to keep on seeing such an outpouring of support and love for her.

I will probably be working on this lightening that my whole life. So the fact that I wrote this story is both interesting and fitting. I'd say curious but to me it represents the way I think of BDSM when it works perfectly, which is like this yin and yang, people who have different urges, but urges that contrast perfectly in their extremity. Or what I think of as extremity; obviously that word means different things to different people. There are definitely things I've done I never thought I'd do and things I have and do think about that I'm not sure I'll ever do, and a lot of that comes out in fiction. "Foot and Mouth" you'll have to wait until next year for, but "The Weight" is going to be in Best Bondage Erotica 2012 and the part that is curious but also complimentary is that desire for weight on someone else, for the force of a body as a weapon.

I, like my protagonist, am much more partial to the human body as a tool than I am anything else when it comes to kinky play, and by "body" I mean both body parts but even more so the mind. In this excerpt you'll see that it's both this character, Damian, the narrator is so attuned to, but also the phrase his knee, the look on his face, his eyes. It's all of those body parts working in concert with both her and all that has come before. For me it's the kind of story I long to write, and am proud of, but couldn't do every day, just like I couldn't do anything like that every day. It's part of, maybe, my recovery process, my getting over someone who is seemingly ubiquitous, inescapable. Or maybe it's something else I'm not even aware of. But I'm looking forward to sharing this story with the world. It will close out my book, which should be in stores by Thanksgiving. I'm working on more food stories, lighter ones, ones that dance around their kinks, rather than dropping them on the reader so, well, heavily. I'm writing a story named after a Cyndi Lauper song now. But I also think that "lighter" is relative. We all have light and darkness inside us and for me lightness is a goal not at the expense of mental or emotional weight, but as a coping mechanism. Anyway, here is an excerpt from "The Weight." More bondage erotica excerpts closer to pub date! Much of the book, and my introduction explores this, features women tying up men, because that was what the majority of the submissions included, so I hope you femdom types will buy it. I think there is a wonderful mix of types of bondage and motivations for it, and I hope I'll get to keep on editing more bondage erotica because it's always an interesting process.

This is fiction, for sure, but the kind of fiction I sometimes think is more truthful than any essay I write could ever be.

From "The Weight" by me:

I don’t gulp in greedy deep breaths of air; that would be too obvious. I take the smallest breaths I can, savoring them, making do with what I can get, while I can. He rises just enough to turn me over, settling down again with his knee planted firmly against my pussy, so firmly it hurts a little. He’s not trying to make me wet, or make me like it. I know that much by now. He’s trying to simply tell me that even his knee owns me, that even his knee can make me do anything he demands.

It’s the look on his face that makes me shudder as surely as if someone zapped me. I can breathe a little now, but I can’t move, not really. He has me pinned, strapped in as surely as the fanciest of handcuffs. The shudder rises from my red-painted toenails on up. I tremble against him where his knee is greeting me, and he shifts so the pressure lands at my wrists, where he’s raised them above my head. At any moment he might shift both wrists into one meaty palm and tickle me, threatening my bladder, threatening my control.

I’m tempted to bite my lip, but I don’t. He’d only force them apart, force my mouth, like the rest of me, open, shove something, probably his fingers, many of them, inside. I’m not sure if I miss his weight yet, because I love how strong he is, how his strength brought to bear full bore demands an equal showing of strength from me. I look up at him, not sure which Damian I will see. Sometimes his hazel eyes are dark and stormy, and he’ll lean down and bite my lip, digging his teeth in, clamping down until I mewl to get away, and then giving me a few extra seconds of pain before rising and spitting into my mouth. Sometimes he’ll raise his hand so suddenly I hardly have time to be aware of what’s about to happen, then strike my cheek so hard my ears ring. Sometimes he shackles my arms above my head, to the cuffs secured to the headboard, and pinches my nose and mouth shut, holding them tighter and tighter until I start to truly thrash, and then he’ll let go of one hand, keeping the other in place. Like I said, I’m not into all the accoutrements of bondage, but I gladly give him my arms, and savor the tightness of a cuff or the sweetly deceptive smoothness of a silk scarf, even though he is my favorite sex toy of all.

My French fry food porn story "French Fried" to be published in Best Lesbian Romance 2012

My French fry food porn story "French Fried," set in the Paris of my imagination, with a little help from a friend's true tale (not the sex part, but the seeing a girl eating fries part), will be published in the Cleis Press anthology Best Lesbian Romance 2012, edited by Radclyffe! Yay! I definitely plan to write more food porn. Waffles, maybe cheese...could I pull off dumplings? Maybe for a short short. Wonder if Fuck Yeah French Fries would be interested?

Funnily enough I'm trying not to eat French fries til Labor Day, when I hope I will be much closer to my goal weight. I did nibble a few the other day at Coffee Shop, and they were delicious. What I love about writing is that I can fantasize about food and sex and whatever else and turn those mental imaginings into stories.

Here's an excerpt:

From "French Fried" by me:

The fry is the best thing I've ever tasted. It's warm and perfectly cooked through, salty, with a hint of some kind of spice. But what heats my mouth even more is the way Veronique is looking at me. Her eyes are taking in my entire face, wide, trusting, seeking, and her lips are red and beautiful. On someone else the color might look overbearing, a vamp on the prowl, but on her it manages to look both innocent and seductive. I'm not afraid of her in the least, nor of her hungry eyes just waiting to devour me like I am doing to the fries. The fork lingers between her perfectly manicured fingers, but she puts it down, then picks up another fry and runs it along my lower lip. I dart out my tongue, teasing the fry, running my tongue up its length, licking the salt off.

She laughs, the sound melodious, but suddenly I want to feed her, too. I part my lips and she traces a fry along each one, from the right edge where they meet, along my lower lip, then around and atop the curves of my upper lip, getting the salty potato sticky with my gloss while her eyes soak in every inch of my face. Her look is intense, whether from under those impossibly long lashes, or straight on. This is a look I never get from the New York girls, who like to keep their distance. I want to tell her I don't speak French, but when I open my mouth, she traces the fry along my tongue. The back of my throat catches. Even though we are flirting over skinny bits of fried potatoes, there's nothing innocent about this. I know little more than this woman's name and already I want all of her, inside and out.

She is so calm, I can only wonder if her heart is beating fast too. "More?" She inches closer to me, and all the thoughts about touching up my makeup, straightening my outfit, wondering what I'm doing, leave my head as she slips me another fry, this time letting her finger dance along my tongue as she does. I press upward against the pad of her finger as she traces it against my organ, and know right away we are doing much more than eating. We are communicating in a language we are both perfectly fluent in, and the delicate hairs along my arms rise up in greeting.

She is so clearly in charge of me, and yet she's not dominating me. As her finger bends and the smooth edge of her nail scrapes my skin, I relax even more. She is teasing me, right here in this bistro, in a city I'd never stepped foot in until yesterday. She is daring me to stay silent, to not rush forward with the torrent of questions I find so tedious about dating back home. She is daring me to simply sit, wait, savor. She pulls out her finger and wipes it on her napkin, the picks up another fry, dips it in a pool of ketchup that somehow now seems like a sex sauce whipped up just for us, and puts it in her mouth.


photo by me but alas, I forget where I took this!

Read the whole story in Best Lesbian Romance 2012! I'm not seeing a cover for it yet, but you can pre-order it from Amazon here (pre-ordering helps support books because it shows an interest from consumers, which means bookstores and online bookstores order more books). I can't speak for anyone else's series, but I can say for Best Bondage Erotica (lineup coming this week!) that the series can only continue if people buy the books.

Song title inspiration for erotica

My story in Obsessed (out next month! party in August! postcards just ordered! please pre-order at the low cost of $9.95 at the moment or request your free review copy) is called "I Want to Hold Your Hand." The title is obviously inspired by the Beatles song. The story is inspired by...me and my kinda sorta "type." I don't really have a type, but it's not a secret that I like "big" guys. I have another story about sexy hand holding percolating, based, actually, on a pretty skinny guy who was very good at holding hands. I think hand holding is underrated as an erotic activity.



But anyway, what I wanted to talk about was music. I wrote a story once called "Fast Girls" inspired by the Sarge song, then edited a book of the same name and used that song in the book trailer. My Irresistible story will be called "That's The Way I Always Heard It Should Be," because I am a Carly Simon fan. I love taking a phrase or a title that has one meaning from its original artist and giving it a spin. Sometimes when I'm stuck, which is often, lately, I try to see what or who might give rise to a story. There is always something. Maybe Vashti Bunyan's "I'd Like to Walk Around in Your Mind."

I love having a reference point, like this one story I wrote, "Bed-In" (I think that's how I spelled it) inspired by John and Yoko's bed in, though this one had a much more commercial twist (set in a bedding store). We'll see...I'm hoping my trips give me time to properly work on some stories; I have to write a hotel erotica one and a bunch of others and just get the creativity flowing again after my mind kindof not going in that direction, or at least, me not finishing stories I should have. I am determined to write a story inspired by the blowtorch at Sweet Iron Waffles which was just one of the sexiest things I've ever seen and I'm not really at all a fire play kind of girl. It was more the way the guy using it looked while he was using it, so focused and intense and holding this powerful machine in his hand to feed me something delicious. Since I so rarely listen to my CD collection anymore, maybe they can prove useful for story ideas.

Here's a snippet of "I Want to Hold Your Hand:"

At least he had two body parts that hadn’t lost their heft: his hands and his cock. She knew that saying about a man’s feet predicting his size below the waist, but with Ron, his hands and his cock were both, well, manly, while his size nine feet were what she considered average. His hands, though, they were big, strong, powerful; there was nothing he could do about his man hands. Ron had always been able to speak to her with his hands, even on their first date, when he’d reached for one of hers and massaged it, his thumb tricking along her palm, his fingers tickling her skin, making her curious about him, about what he could do to her. They were soft, and seemingly tender, but when she dared to try to get to know them, he’d crushed her fingers within his own, letting her know that he would be the one to master their manual dexterity.

She was still curious, as she’d been then, eager to get to know him by running her lips along his skin, by listening to his heartbeat, though truth be told, the parts that everyone else was so eager to talk about and salivate over were not the ones that interested Shelly. His abs, his biceps, all sounded like clichés to her ears. Her Ron wasn’t the macho bodybuilder they were making him out to be, and if he were, she wasn’t sure she would want him anymore. She’d caught a couple of college girls, home on break, whispering about what he might look like underneath, and had huffed her way through their conversation, stalking right in between them and giving them the stink eye. Who were these brats and why didn’t they find someone their own age?

“Honey, I want to go to the movies,” she said, pulling him aside, not caring how petulant she might sound.

“Now?” He looked at her in confusion.

“Well, tonight, yeah.”

“What do you want to see?”

“I don’t care,” she said, then lifted his right hand and brought it to her mouth.

New column: "I'm Still Bisexual Even Though I'm Dating a Guy"

The more I type that column title, the more "duh" and obvious it sounds but still, it was something I felt was worth writing about. I'm always casting about for new column topics - one will definitely deal with Joan Price and her new book Naked at Our Age: Talking Out Loud About Senior Sex and elder sexuality. Maybe I can find something in London to write about! Still working on my Weinergate kinky sexting essay which I might just blog instead of going through the pitching rigamarole.



In some ways, my embrace of bisexual is also about a rejection of heteronormativity, of all the parts of straightness that feel oppressive to me. Yes, there are privileges accorded to straight people, but I feel there are also burdens; it’s assumed that you want to get married and become a parent and be monogamous. Stepping outside any of those roles messes with the dominant culture’s plans for you. I’d like to think being part of the LGBT community has made me more open and empathetic, and showed me how people are, in fact, so much more than any label.

What’s interesting to me is that this title, bisexual, is important to me, It's something I feel I carry no matter who I’m dating, or not dating, whereas “poly” and “kinky” are not intrinsic parts of my identity. They are things I have been at various times in my life, or rather, my relationships have been. Bisexuality is different for me, perhaps because it feels more primal than either being poly or kinky — not that they need to be pitted against each other. I used to struggle with the word “bisexual” because it implies there are only two sexes or genders, which is not something I believe, but it’s a shorthand that, in general, works for me.

My bisexuality has also played itself out in almost all of my relationships in some form. Often the form it takes is in talking dirty, and sometimes it’s gone beyond that. One girlfriend, who was pretty much exclusively into women, indulged my interest in a male friend of ours with a threesome. With most of the straight men I’ve dated, not surprisingly, they’ve been interested in fantasizing aloud about me with another woman or hearing about my own fantasies. I certainly feel freer when I have a boyfriend sharing my fantasies about women, real or imagined, than I do about other men.

Read the whole column (and if you like it, I'd love it if you'd "like" it on Facebook at the top and/or tweet, blog, etc. - all that really helps!)

My last Seattle and London readings, please come: free cupcakes June 27th and July 2nd

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New column: "When It Comes to Sex Education, There Are No Stupid Questions"

I was late so my column, "When It Comes to Sex Education, There Are No Stupid Questions," which mentions my friend Ellen Friedrichs, abstinence only craziness, Joyce T. McFadden's book Your Daughter's Bedroom and Violet Blue's The Smart Girl's Guide to the G-Spot, ran this week instead of last week; next week's will be up on Wednesday, June 15th, and that night is the Big Jewcy party at Brooklyn Winery!



A little excerpt:


At the same time, I’m grateful to have even gotten some of the basics. I wasn’t getting it on in high school, but I was curious, and with my first partner I had to investigate various forms of birth control on my own. States and towns are continually battling about how best to education their children about sexual safety. The Illinois Senate recently passed a bill mandating that contraceptives be added to the curriculum for grades six through 12 (currently, they’re only required to teach about abstinence as a form of pregnancy and STD prevention). According to the Chicago Tribune, “Sen. Dan Duffy, R-Lake Barrington, argued that teaching students anything more than abstinence would encourage them to have sex.”

This argument comes up repeatedly and always sounds like the most ignorant thing in the world to me. Not only does making abstinence the standard not work for those who aren’t going to choose it, it also means that those who are having sex, or are simply curious about it, are going to have fewer people to ask questions about sex. It makes them feel like there’s something wrong with them for having those desires. News flash: there’s not. We should all be angry that those who want to promote abstinence as the best method for teenagers can’t open their eyes enough to see that not everyone is going to follow that rule.

Furthermore, the shame, ignorance and misinformation that can brew in those who are just starting on their sexual journey is dangerous. Central Florida Future guest columnist Anna Eskamimi writes, “My high school's sexual education program revolved around us, the students, being made scared to have sex. I remember, quite explicitly, hearing premarital sex compared to used bubblegum — ‘Who would want to chew used bubblegum?’ — was our guest speaker's main argument.”

Please read the whole thing and if you like it, spread the word (there are buttons at the top, or feel free to reTweet me or @SexisMagazine, always much appreciated)!

Rejected by Brevity, accepted by Thought Catalog, and yes, I'm a fucking snob: "What is Kale?"

So I was doing this thing that I thought was semi-productive by blogging my rejections from journal-I-really-really-wanted-to-prove-something-to-myself-by-being-published-in Brevity, "Wannabe Housewife" and "Pill Popper." Then I realized even more productive would be to...send them somewhere else. Somewhere that doesn't even charge a fee! That even has cache. Of course I still want to be published in Brevity but I also have come to accept that that's highly unlikely and I am okay with that. I embrace my lack of whatever it is and I am now coming out as a snob in "What is Kale?" It was a snobby reject kind of day and yet I feel happy. Imagine that. Thanks, Thought Catalog! You rock.

Announcing the Table of Contents for Women in Lust

I'm so thrilled with the gorgeous, gorgeous cover Cleis Press gave me for Women in Lust, which will be out just in time for my 36th birthday and features a stellar lineup of international writers. What's inside promises t be just as sexy as the cover. Once I get it back from copyediting I'll post my introduction. For now, you can pre-order it from Amazon (if you're planning to buy it, this helps sales because pre-orders let stores/online shops know that there's an audience and they buy more, and, generally, the better my books do, the bigger the print runs, the more opportunities I get to edit more) and I'll add to the official site and link to it when I can. I'm trying to wean myself off buying postcards for books because they wind up littering (literally) my apartment but for this one I may feel compelled to, in a small quantity.

Another happy editorial aspect of this book and most of my recent ones is working with authors I've never worked with before. Sorry if I miss any of you, but in this case, that means Lucy Hughes, Del Carmen, Brandy Fox, Kin Fallon and Kayar Silkenvoice. I do my best to include new (to me) authors in all my books and am thrilled to be able to keep doing so. This is an extremely hot and wide-ranging book that I think you'll enjoy. So more about it closer to the pub date.



Women in Lust
Edited by Rachel Kramer Bussel

Introduction: Ladies Who Lust

Naughty Thoughts Portia Da Costa
Guess Charlotte Stein
Her, Him and Them Aimee Pearl
Bayou Clancy Nacht
Smoke Elizabeth Coldwell
Bite Me Lucy Hughes
Ride a Cowboy Del Carmen
Queen of Sheba Jen Cross
Hot for Teacher Rachel Kramer Bussel
Unbidden Brandy Fox
Something to Ruin Amelia Thornton
Guitar Hero Kin Fallon
Ode to a Masturbator Aimee Herman
Orchid Jacqueline Applebee
Cherry Blossom by Kayar Silkenvoice
Rain Olivia Archer
The Hard Way Justine Elyot
Strapped K D Grace
Beneath My Skin Shanna Germain
Comfort Food Donna George Storey

Here's a little teaser from my back to school story "Hot for Teacher" - you'll have to buy the book to read the whole thing!

From "Hot for Teacher" by Rachel Kramer Bussel:

Then, staring at herself in the mirror, Meredith lifted her right breast and tucked her head down so she could suck on her own nipple. The flood of emotion and arousal was so intense she had to lean her left hand against the counter. She spread her legs, wondering if Professor Arthur was circumcised, picturing his cock as big and thick and aching just for her. She kept going, making sure to watch her every move, so that when she did go to her hot professor’s office hours, it wasn’t as a true schoolgirl, skittish and nervous, relying on her youthful charm and giggly giddiness, but as a mature woman who could tap into that spirit, but also had something more to offer. For all her pleated-skirt fantasies, what Meredith wanted was to be treated like a womanæa woman who knew exactly what she wanted, even if what she wanted was to be manhandled by a younger nerdy man who just so happened to hold her academic future in his hands.

She searched her closet, determined to find something there capable of seduction. She could afford to shop, at least a little, but Meredith wanted something familiar, a reminder that even in all these years when dating had taken a backseat to the mundane truths of Real Life and mothering, she’d remembered the girl who threw her bra onstage and got fingered backstage, who was wet and wild and carefree. She rummaged and rummaged and finally, in the back of the closet, found a red and purple dress she vaguely remembered buying, if not wearing. There were no tags on it, but the purple silk outlining the red shimmery fabric made her smile. She immediately shucked off her t-shirt and jeans and slipped it over her head, seeing that she’d need a new bra, one to be worn strategically peeking out from beneath this dress’s straps.

She turned sideways, admiring the way the dress clung to her breasts, proud of them, proud of herself for not having even considered having them lifted or added to, the way so many of the women she knew had done. Meredith cupped her hands over her breasts, letting her nipples peek out, hoping Professor Arthur would like her in this dress, like her as more than a student. She decided maybe she didn’t need a bra, after all--or panties. If she was going to go for it, she was going to go for it.

Watch me on Gabcast with Jessica Delfino talking about hotel sex, the mile high club, people pleasing and more

Check out my interview with the very talented, funny and smart performer Jessica Delfino, who graciously had me on her show to talk about sex in hotels and on planes, where I learned about ice hotels, as well as people-pleasing and sex in the news and more. Some screen grabs are below.







Watch us here and follow @loveisp on Twitter to find out who else she's hosting and of course visit jessicadelfino.com where you can see more of her work, including my favorite song of hers, "My Pussy is Magic." And you can catch her performing at In The Flesh. Speaking of which, well, it's not coming back, but I am working on a special fall NYC multimedia extravaganza. Stay tuned.

I'm wearing my new favorite piece of jewelry, the demi necklace by Objets d'Envy in Honeysuckle, Pantone's color of the year. Love their jewelry!

And look what she served me for breakfast! I'm totally tempted to be all rock star and have a rider that I want crepes at every interview.

Orgasmic wins 2011 IPPY Gold Award for Erotica

Yay! I just got the news that my anthology Orgasmic: Erotica for Women will be awarded the GOLD IPPY (Independent Publisher) Award. This makes my sixth and I love that these awards highlight independent publishing. I would also personally love to see this book do so well I get to do another book all about orgasms because it's one of my most varied books and I love that about it! So congratulations to all the authors in Orgasmic and if you haven't checked out this book yet, more info is below. I also liked the challenge of writing in a way that almost fetishizes whatever it is that gives each character an orgasm, not in a way that negates that fetish, obviously, but in a way that brings it to life. None of the stories read as cliches of what gets someone off.



What gets you off? How do you like to come? Let Orgasmic count the ways…with 25 stories centered around female orgasm, there’s something here for every reader. The women in Orgasmic climax from Tantric sex, role-playing, piercing, G-spot play, sex toys, horseback riding, BDSM, a belt and even chemistry–the scientific kind. They delight in food, God and handymen. They create their own objects of pleasure; they spy, tease, obey, command, argue, submit. Some are shy about their orgasms and some are bold as can be. They come, and come and come again, and they do it in some of the hottest, most creative ways you can think of. Featuring red-hot erotica by some of today’s hottest writers, these stories will make you want to stop everything and have an orgasm immediately…once you’ve turned the last succulent page.



Purchase Orgasmic from:



Amazon.com.



Kindle edition



Barnes & Noble (Bn.com)



Borders



IndieBound (search for your local independent bookstore!)



Cleis Press

Introduction: Let Me Count the Ways…

The Waiting Game Elizabeth Coldwell
What’s in a Name? Jacqueline Applebee
Chemistry Velvet Moore
The Chair Lolita Lopez
Fixing the Pipes Susie Hara
Share Dusty Horn
Hurdles Rowan Elizabeth
Seeing Stars Louisa Harte
Old Faithful Sylvia Lowry
Paying It Forward Kendra Wayne
The Big O Donna George Storey
Moon Tantra Teresa Noelle Roberts
Feet on the Dashboard Rachel Green
Frosting First Lana Fox
All She Wanted Andrea Dale
Making Shapes Lily Harlem
Rapture Angela Caperton
Belted Rachel Kramer Bussel
Rise and Shine Heidi Champa
Taking the Reins Vanessa Vaughn
First Date with the Dom Noelle Keely
Animal Inside Neve Black
The London O Justine Elyot
Fight Charlotte Stein
Switch Jade Melisande

Introduction

Let Me Count The Ways…

Orgasm: like sex, it’s one word that means many different things to many different people. For many women, it’s the center of their sexual life, a daily occurrence; something to look forward to, experiment with. For
some it means a gushing rush of pleasure, for others it’s a little wave they delight in cresting.

Every woman who orgasms may describe it differently.

Yet there are many women, myself included, who find orgasm not so easy to achieve much of the time (yes, it’s trueæI love sex, and get turned on, but coming is a bit more complex for me). In “Hurdles,” Rowan Elizabeth writes of such a character: “I can’t win this. And it’s my hang-up, too. I feel like there’s something I’m just not doing right. Maybe if I tighten my legs a little more or squeeze my eyes shut harder, then we’d get there together.”

Merriam-Webster’s Dictionary defines orgasm as “intense or paroxysmal excitement; especially: an explosive discharge of neuromuscular tensions at the height of sexual arousal that is usually accompanied by the ejaculation of semen in the male and by vaginal contractions in the female.” It comes from the Latin and Greek (orgasmus/orgasmos), from organ “to grow ripe, be lustful.” I like that description, though what it leaves out is that for women, orgasm can stretch beyond the boundaries of ejaculation, can continue on and on, can be drawn out for as long as the woman (or her partner) wants to indulge in the experience.

In Lolita Lopez’s perfectly kinky story, “The Chair,” sex toys and submission go hand in hand with orgasm for the protagonist. “Lily’s orgasms changed from separate events to one long and unending oscillation of bliss.” Her “punishment” at the hands of Cal is one she’s very, very happy to absorb.

There are countless articles and books telling you how to have a bigger, better orgasm. I don’t want to add to the clamor of the voices saying, You must orgasm now. Instead, I want Orgasmic to be a fictional showcase of some of the reasons, methods and delights women bring to their orgasms. I want these red-hot stories to help get you warmed up, primed, aroused. I want them to make you squirm with desire, identification, curiosity. I want you to read these stories aloud to a lover…or someone you wish were your lover.

I did my best to capture an array of big (and little) Os, moments where the world feels like it’s exploding in your body, orgasms that rock more than just your world. These stories capture the ferocity, intensity and power of women’s orgasms, however they’re achieved. I couldn’t include every way women come in this book, or it would be much longer than it is now, but I wanted to include a varied look at what gets women off, which means it’s not always a man or another woman, or even a machine that does the trick. Vanessa Vaughn taps into a classic route with “Taking the Reins:”

As I straddle the seat and slowly lower myself down, I feel a familiar tingle of excitement deep inside. I can sense the monstrous size of the body between my thighs, the large chest expanding and contracting broadly with each breath. The smell of fresh, conditioned leather smothers my sensesæwell, that, and also the slight musky tinge of sweat. It is a raw smell mixed with rich, dark dirt.

Speaking of orgasm how-tos, in “The Big O” by Donna George Storey, she both skewers the omnipresent women’s magazine sex advice and adds a saucy twist as her protagonist puts into practice “The Sexercise Prescription: A Stronger Secret You in Six Weeks.”

The women in Orgasmic climax from tantric sex, role-playing, piercing, G-spot play, sex toys and even chemistry--the scientific kind. They delight in food, God and handymen. They create their own objects of pleasure; they spy, tease, obey, command, argue, submit. Some are shy about their orgasms and some are bold as can be.

They come, and come and come again, and they do it in some of the hottest, most creative ways you can think of. Visit me at orgasmicbook.wordpress.com if you just can’t get enough…orgasms, that is.

Rachel Kramer Bussel
New York City

"Penis Size Doesn't Matter--or Does It?"

I think this is the first time I've explicitly revisited a topic I'd covered for The Village Voice in this column, so I tried to make it really different from that one from 2006, which touched more on race and penis size stereotypes. The result is "Penis Size Doesn't Matter--or Does It?" I didn’t even have room (ha!) for the penis size map in this column (actually kindof forgot and it’s a long column anyway). I do talk about Steve-O’s tattoo, small celebrity penises, porn as a culprit, sexual insecurity, penis enlargement, benefits of the small penis, small penis porn and more. Thanks for reading!

Obsessed: Erotic Romance for Women table of contents and introduction

I can now give you a sneak peek at Obsessed: Erotic Romance for Women, out officially and on Kindle August 1st but really out mid-July. You'll have to read the book for the foreword by noted romance author Caridad Piñeiro!

For my very special Amazon.com reviewers you get them hot off the press. Those will be mailed out mid-July, stay tuned to @raquelita on Twitter for an announcement about freebies toward the end of June - first come, first served, you have to review it on Amazon within a month of receipt. And if you blog about books and want to review it, email me at obsessedantho at gmail.com with "Review request" and your full contact information (URL, mailing address). I'm really proud of and excited about the sweet sexiness in this one!

Silent Treatment Donna George Storey
One Night in Paris Kayla Perrin
Concubine Portia Da Costa
Love and Demotion Logan Belle
Mephisto Waltz Justine Elyot
Then Emerald
It’s Gotta Be Fate Jennifer Peters
Hooked Ariel Graham
Aftershocks Bella Andre
Secret Places Adele Haze
Loser Charlotte Stein
Here In Between Kristina Wright
Spellbound by Garnell Wallace
Raven’s Flight Andrea Dale
Raindrops and Rooftops Elizabeth Coldwell
Topiary K. D. Grace
I Want to Hold Your Hand Rachel Kramer Bussel
Storm Surge Teresa Noelle Roberts
Undercover Kink Louisa Harte



The women in Obsessed show their passion for their lovers in all kinds of ways. For some it’s about indulging in acts of daring, for others it’s about letting go of their preconceived notions of propriety and going where their bodies tell them.

In many of these stories, communication, the touchstone of advice about good relationships, is missing in some key way, whether it’s the almost-divorced couple in “Aftershocks” by Bella Andre who finally, during an earthquake, confess their deepest desires, or the one-time lovers in “Silent Treatment” by Donna George Storey who find plenty to say with their bodies at a silent retreat. In “Then,” Emerald explores what happens after a woman confesses to her boyfriend just how much she lusts after another man. They push the boundaries of their relationship and the boundaries of their trust in each other—another theme of this book.

Charlotte Stein paints a portrait of a “Loser” who manages to capture the attention of the narrator--and keep it by impressing her with his ardent desire. Stein writes, “He does little things, like when I stop him saying words like those with my mouth on his, he brings his hands up to cup my face. Other guys don’t cup my face. And he does it as though he wants to keep me as close as possible, so he can fully concentrate on my mouth and the way it moves and how much tongue I’m giving him at any given time.”

Obsessed is not about obsession for a new purse or a new car or a new perfume. It’s not even about the obsessiveness of a crush, the kind of panting lust that cycles over and over itself with no end in sight. Instead, Obsessed is about the way a lover can get under your skin, can drive you crazy with lust as well as so many other emotions--love, longing, hunger, anger, confusion. Are there happy endings here? Yes, there are, but they are not always the happy endings you’d expect. These stories sizzle with the kind of obsession that is fueled by our deepest desires, the ones that hold couples together, the ones that haunt us and don’t let go. Whether experiencing just-blooming passions, rekindled sparks or reinvented relationships, these lovers put the object of their obsession first. They don’t always do what’s rational or proper; instead, they chase their dreams, as in Kayla Perrin’s “One Night in Paris,” across the world and across the landscape of their lovers’ bodies.

I hope Obsessed speaks to the part of you that knows what it’s like to do anything for the right person, to bare yourself body and soul in the hope that once stripped to your most secret self, you will be rewarded with someone who sees you for who you truly are. With these nineteen stories, though, you don’t have to hope--I can tell you now that these gutsy heroines find men who know exactly how to treat their wild, hungry hearts. How they get there is yours to savor.

Rachel Kramer Bussel
New York City

New essays up at Modern Love Rejects and Thought Catalog

I have two new essays that, coincidentally, both went up today.

One is at the new site Modern Love Rejects. It's called "The Unlikely Other Woman." It feels dated to me, because it's from a while ago, but as part of my new try, try, try again attitude, I thought it fitting to send a piece that's in part about rejection to a site about rejection.

I thought I was too smart to get hurt, which was my ultimate downfall. There’s no such thing as “too smart” when it comes to love; it’s the great intelligence equalizer. Why else would Nikki Giovanni have a poem addressing precisely this scenario called “I Would Not Be Different.” I grabbed it off the shelf at my local bookstore, one where we’d even had a date, where he’d kissed me between the stacks. I was desperate for a sense of community of fellow women who were not smart enough to evade the charm of the married man. “You sort of see someone/And you don’t want to notice/That ring on his finger/Nor really that sort of happy/Look in his eyes,” she writes. I thought he could be happy with her—and me—and that I could be too.

And that local bookstore is that fantabulous WORD, where I got some amazing books and ogled cute items last night. More on that later. But since it's still National Poetry Month, I'll recommend you check out that stunning Nikki Giovanni book, Bicycles: Love Poems. I kept that book in my bag for a long time and would read it almost daily. Yes, it helped.



The other essay has a crazy long title, and I'm really happy with it. Some of it is about the fact that social media is, well, social, and is a counterpoint to some of the people who think it's not. I described it on Twitter as being about "art appreciation, theater, iPhones, Flickr, 4square, Nirvana, David Carr, technology & more." That pretty much sums it up, I think. Please read it and, if you're so inclined, pass it along. I'm honored to have my work published their because I love what they're doing. Do make sure to check out their Love & Sex section. I have my eye on some pieces for Best Sex Writing 2012 (no decisions have been made on that book yet, as I'm wrapping up Best Bondage Erotica 2012 and madly reading reading reading).

"Why I Had My iPhone In My Hand While Viewing The Nirvana Exhibit At Experience Music Project"

I can contrast my visit to EMP with the other Seattle Center cultural offering I took in, a matinee of the play This at Seattle Rep, a few minutes’ walk away. There were plenty of moments in the play I found noteworthy, from the married man who tells the woman with whom he had a one-night stand, “You invade my psyche,” to the game the other characters play with Jane, whereby she leaves the room and has to guess the story they’ve made up, using only yes and no questions. Only there is no story, save for the one she spins, and she is the last one in on the not-so-funny (to her) joke. Unlike the museum, except for perhaps the video interview sections, the play moved too quickly to capture except by memory.

Both ways of processing and responding to art with simply our eyes and ears, or with the aid of technology, or perhaps pen and pencilæare, I believe are necessary. Any time I walk into a museum, a theater, or even a park, or open a book or visit a website, I am hoping that something I find there will leave me changed and different than I was before I ventured into that space. My photos (which you can see here) don’t tell a whole story, mine or the museum’s, so much as offer a tease, a glimpse into what stood out for me during my two hours in EMP. They aren’t meant to replace or stand in for the exhibit.

Read the whole thing

"To put it bluntly, weddings make me horny."

No, not me, but the protagonist of my story "Wedding Crasher" in the new Alison Tyler anthology from Harlequin Spice, With This Ring, I Thee Bed which just came out. Here's a little bit more from the opening of the story:

To put it bluntly, weddings make me horny. Not the idea of a wedding, me in a frilly gown and veil, walking down the aisle with the mythical man of my dreams. I leave that stuff for other girls, ones far more traditional than I. I can get through all the shmaltz, the bad dresses, worse food, and even dismal music as long as I can find someone to make my night a little more interesting. It can be a man or a womanæor both at once! I’ve had some of the best sex of my life at weddings, and I think the reason is because even the cynics among us can’t help but get lulled into the sense of love and companionship that are in the air at a wedding. We want someone to celebrate with, even if we’re not breaking in the honeymoon suite.



Now or Forever by Nikki Magennis

Racing to the Altar by Sommer Marsden

Forever Hold Your Peace by I.K Velasco

A Lucky Wedding by Thomas S. Roche

Something Old, Something New by Sophia Valenti

Kiss the Bride by Lana Fox

One Last Time by Saskia Walker

Forsaking All Others by Janine Ashbless

Mother of the Bride by Cheyenne Blue

I Married a Gigolo by Jax Baynard

Strippers and Cigars by N.T. Morley

Something Blue by Shanna Germain

Speak Now by Heidi Champa

Wedding Crasher by Rachel Kramer Bussel

Blushing Bride by Bella Dean

Anniversary Waltz by Portia Da Costa

I Will by Erastes

A Vow for a Vow by P.S. Haven

Seven Year Itch by Kristina Lloyd

Rites of Passage by ADR Forte

Naked Nuptials by Alison Tyler

Love, Honor, and Obey by Rita Winchester

May the Best Man Win by Kate Pearce

Taking Vows by Kristina Wright

The Wedding Stoppers by Michael Hemmingson

Cover of my 39th anthology, Obsessed: Erotic Romance for Women

Once I get the copyedited version I will share my introduction and the table of contents, but I can now share the cover to my July release, my 39th anthology, Obsessed: Erotic Romance for Women, which is available for pre-order on Amazon. My story is called "I Want to Hold Your Hand." It's about size and jealousy and, yes, hot hand holding. And a foreword by Stronger Than Sin and Aztec Gold (both of which I recommend, especially for paranormal and history fans - Aztec Gold is contemporary, but has a touch of history) author Caridad Piñeiro®.



Actually, here's a tiny snippet of my sweet (for me) story - there are dirtier ones in here, I promise!

She smiled at him as she chewed the licorice while he held it, until she reached his fingers. She licked them gently, enjoying his soft moan, feeling almost giddy at their running off in the middle of their party to play at being luststruck. Or maybe they weren’t playing at all, because when he reached for her hand with his free one and held it, she felt nothing but love and lust coursing through her.

I'll have other purchasing links and more information closer to the pub date. Next is Women in Lust, Best Bondage Erotica 2012 and Best Sex Writing 2012, all out this year, then a bunch more hotness in 2012. Amazingly for someone like me, a few of those 2012 books have already been filed! Which leaves me more time to focus on brainstorming new ones and reading through piles of submissions and, in the case of Best Sex Writing 2012, searching far and wide and reading lots of books, magazines and websites for the authors on my wish list. It's gonna be brilliant, if I do say so myself.

Why “Nerd Lottery” Winner Andrew Kessler Opened “Monobookist” Bookstore Ed’s Martian Book Stocking 2,500 Copies of His First Book

The other day I gushed over how cool Ed's Martian Book (which I keep wanting to call Ed's Martian Hand, in some misguided Dorian's Red Hand mental transposing) is? Well, I interviewed the Meatball Shop-inspired mastermind behind it, Martian Summer author Andrew Kessler. For The Nervous Breakdown, which makes me crazy nervous to write for. Hope you like it and if so, let people know!

My favorite line is at the end: "When you start thinking of ideas, the one that makes people the most nervous is the one you want."