Email: rachelkramerbussel at gmail.com



 

Lusty Lady

BLOG OF RACHEL KRAMER BUSSEL
Watch me talk about my debut as an author, Sex & Cupcakes: A Juicy Collection of Essays, in this Q&A with my publisher Thought Catalog Books

Friday, April 29, 2016

Erotic romance anthology Passion is only $1.99 on sale this week!

I know I've neglected my blog - a lot has been going on as I strategize about what I want to do with my life and how to improve the things that aren't working so well, and expand on the ones that are going well. So I'm taking some time away from blogging and social media to some degree to ponder and plan and assess and sort of get my bearings. But I wanted to share this sale, because it's a great price and because while I love erotica, I also love erotic romance. I read both, though I've written less of the latter, and Passion is a book I think has a broad appeal that may have been lost in the shuffle of putting out a lot of books at once so the sale is a chance for me and, hopefully, some of you to visit or revisit it.

Passion-Book-Promo

It's got a lot of wonderful authors whose novels you may have read, and others who may be new to you. It's $1.99 on Kindle, Nook, Google Play, iBooks and Kobo for the next week or so, I believe through Friday, March 6th. Enjoy!

Passion Table of Contents and introduction

Introduction: Getting Passionate

Big-Bed Sex by Donna George Storey
My Dark Knight Jacqueline Applebee
Dear in the Headlights Angela Caperton
The Cherry Orchard Wickham Boyle
Autumn Suite Suzanne V. Slate
Contentions Isabelle Gray
The Silver Belt Lana Fox
Five Senses Rachel Kramer Bussel
The Arch of Triumph Monica Day
Crave You Close A. M. Hartnett
An Easy Guy to Fall On Annabeth Leong
Lingua Franca Justine Elyot
Third Time’s the Charm Charlene Teglia
Riding Wild Things Lizzy Chambers
No Risk, No Reward Saskia Walker
If Emerald
Getting It Right Teresa Noelle Roberts
The Morning Ride Delilah Devlin
The Efficiency Expert Portia Da Costa
Rekindle Kathleen Bradean

Introduction: Getting Passionate

Passion. It can mean greed, desire, affection, love or simply, emotion. You will find all of those and more in the stories contained herein. As you read these twenty stories, you too will be swept away by passion as you travel to Paris and Greece (and Beverly Hills). You’ll get stuck in an elevator, take a bubble bath and a bus ride (not to mention some subway foreplay and flirting) and explore nature in some very intimate ways. You’ll find couples, and couplings by men and women looking (whether they know it or not) to spice things up in the bedroom.

Here, couples at all stages of their relationships (including the very beginning) kindle their passion in various ways, from exes who reunite to young marrieds on a naughty nature walk to first timers mixing business with pleasure. When Krista in “Crave You Close” by A. M. Hartnett tells Nicky, “I’m so used to having to hold my breath,” she is saying so much about their usual erotic m.o. At night, outdoors, she is free to make as much noise as she wants to.

These couples explore getting kinky, precisely because they feel intimately connected to each other. They go places, literally and figuratively, they wouldn’t dare without the other. They revisit old flames and nurture new ones; indeed, sometimes the men these women crave, such as Maya does in “The Silver Belt,” are not their husbands at all, but someone else, someone special, someone who is seeing them in an entirely new light. Those stories mingle with other tales of longtime liovers ignited to fiery scenes within these pages.

Passion can mean so many things, from the sexual submission of a caning to exploring new bodily territory⎯sexual experimentation, trying something you’ve fantasized about. It can mean makeup sex or role-play, a change of scenery or simply a change of thinking. It can mean looking at a lover, a husband, a boyfriend or a new boy toy with fresh eyes, sizing him up, baring yourself, daring him to come and get you.

Just as in real life, there are lovers’ quarrels within these pages, slights real and imagined, as couples find tender, erotic ways to heal their hurts and become even closer. There is an element of real, raw emotion in the way love and desire can as easily tear us down as build us up, that makes us appreciate each expression of romance all the more, because we know how truly special it is. I’m grateful these authors skip from playful romps to relationship-saving sex to tender memories to scorching sex scenes, together creating a book that will likely make you blush and make your heart swell. As the narrator in one of my favorite pieces, “My Dark Knight” by Jacqueline Applebee, says, “I’m a not-so-hopeless romantic. I believe that chivalry still exists, I hope to find quiet nobility in the most random of places, and I believe that people who love each other can live happily ever after.” She finds a dark, very sexy knight who she rescues, seduces, and then… But you’ll have to read the story to find out.

Rachel Kramer Bussel
New York City

If that intrigues you, I hope you'll check out Passion, and a reminder that if you buy the Kindle edition, you can also get the Audible audiobook for just an additional $3.99 (that's also available on its own for a credit if you prefer audiobooks).

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Tuesday, April 19, 2016

Asking a favor about the book I'm most proud of and giving you a free open marriage erotica story as my thanks

TL: DR, I'm shamelessly asking you to review my latest book and giving you my free open marriage erotica story below as my way of saying thanks. Read on if you want to find out why I'm asking.

BWEOfThe Year_approved

I am shifting a lot of things in my life, and over the past few years, have downsized the number of anthologies I edit per year. I'd rather put out one or two that are amazing and as brilliant as I can possibly make them (which, of course, is not entirely or even largely my doing, but the doing of the authors who are willing to submit their work to me) than the six to eight I used to a few years ago, which meant that I barely had time to focus on one before I was moving on to the next.

In the case of what I consider my editorial crowning achievement, Best Women's Erotica of the Year, Volume 1, I also feel I can best devote myself to getting the word out, on Instagram, Twitter, Facebook and Tumblr and wherever else I happen to be, online or off, if I take the time to truly focus on what I'm doing promotion-wise, whether that means visiting every bookstore I can get to that I know has the book, Tweeting about the others, or securing an audiobook deal with my favorite narrator.

Will it be "enough?" Will it sell as many copies as I'd like it to? Will I feel like all this was worth it? Time shall tell. For now, I am keeping my fingers crossed and, while also going about my regular writing gigs, really trying to reach as many potential readers as I can. No matter what the total tally is, I want to know that I gave it my heart and soul, because this book in particular deserves that.

One way to help reach those readers who will never read my blog because they've never heard of me is through Amazon reviews (yes, I know Amazon isn't the only bookselling game in town, but they are a major one). Why are they important? I'll let Tall Poppy Writers explain in visual form (although I personally think that "I liked it" or "I didn't like it" without giving a reason why really doesn't make for a good review, even if it "counts" according to this, but I will share more on that later):

blogreviews

Amazon's algorithms are notoriously secret, so I don't know if every detail here is correct. But I can tell you that my books with the most Amazon reviews, The Big Book of Orgasms and Gotta Have It, have been among the ones that sold the best. I don't know for sure, but I don't think it's a coincidence.

Right now I don't have any contracts for more anthologies beyond the ones already slated to come out, including Best Women's Erotica of the Year, Volume 2, which I'm reading very sexy stories for this month. My dream would be to get to keep on editing the series for a good long time, maybe a decade, long enough to publish hundreds of authors in it (I'm publishing new authors in each volume). No clue if that is even remotely in the realm of possibility, but that's my dream (dream part two: the series does phenomenally well so I can afford to bump up author payment from $100 to $200).

Whether it comes true or not largely comes down to how this first one does. Reviews don't guarantee sales, but they certainly help get the book in front of readers might like, say, some of the authors in the book, like Tiffany Reisz and L. Marie Adeline, and might think, This looks like something I'm willing to take a chance on. So if you want to do me a short favor to help me further that dream, I'd love it if you'd take a minute (okay, it might take two or three minutes but doesn't require more than that) to leave a review on Amazon. You can share which stories is your favorite. You can share what you liked or didn't like about the book. (You can read lots of free excerpts linked at bweoftheyear.com). My goal is to get to 50 reviews, and as of this posting, I'm 9 away.

Whether you post a review or not, I thank you for reading. As a little reward for getting through my musings, I'm giving you the entirety of my story in the book, "Flying Solo," about a couple in an open marriage where a woman is encouraged to seduce another person on a solo trip, to read. If you like it, don't comment here: let Amazon and Goodreads know.

Flying Solo
by Rachel Kramer Bussel from Best Women's Erotica of the Year, Volume 1

I’ve made sure my camera has plenty of battery left for this trip, because you’re not here to watch me. I wish you were, but life sometimes keeps us apart. You didn’t ask me to, but I want to send you photos of me naked, turned on, wet for you. Even though you’re not talking up a storm as you usually are when we travel, I feel you with me as I pass through security, and especially as I head to the gate and start casually, quietly, discreetly looking around, the way we did on our honeymoon. Has it really been four years? They’ve flown by.

I’ll never forget sitting with you and hearing you whisper, “Find someone to take back to our hotel room with us.” You didn’t specify if it should be a man or a woman, and although I’d never considered it before, the idea of being pressed between you and another man made me so excited I almost spilled the medium coffee I’d just purchased. You took it from my hand and blew through the small opening in the plastic top for me, raising your eyebrows. I giggled, then started looking. I reached for your hand for support; you squeezed it but then let me go. I fiddled with my wedding ring, twisting around the new gold band over and over, afraid I looked like a kid in a candy store. You’d whispered to me again. “I’m just so madly in love with you, and I think this should be a new tradition; when we travel, we find someone to join us. Just for fun, no strings attached.” I’d spent the entire time before we boarded perusing every adult sitting around us, mentally undressing them, wondering who had piercings or tattoos, who was kinky, who was the best kisser. I pictured the tall man in a suit, speaking rapidly in Spanish on the phone, with his cock in your mouth. I pictured the short, curvy redhead with her head buried between my legs while you entered her from behind.

“Well?” you’d asked, as they started to board the plane.

“I can’t decide. And I certainly can’t go up to any of these people. What am I going to say? ‘I just got married and my husband wants to have a threesome?’” Yet even saying those unspeakable words made me wet, made my mind and heart race. I’d told you that I was bisexual after our third date, wanting to make sure you wouldn’t have that awful, frat-boy, “That’s hot!” reaction that even most seemingly sophisticated men busted out once I revealed I went both ways. You just nodded and let me tell you all about Simone, the gorgeous woman with the smoky voice and beautiful, curvy body I’d most recently bedded.

I’d fallen in love with you in part because you let me tell you anything, and in turn revealed some of your fantasies. We’d tried out many of them—bondage, strap-ons, hot wax. We’d talked about threesomes and orgies but in a fantasy way, until that trip. For whatever reason, you’d never mentioned wanting to be with another man, but I liked learning new things about you just when I thought I knew it all. “Let’s wait until we’re on the plane,” I’d said, and lucky me: my dream girl, the one whose face I kept returning to, was sitting next to me on the plane. You’d pretended to sleep while I made small talk with her, all the while working up the courage to say what I most wanted to. As it turned out, she’d been the one to whisper in my ear, “I wish I could be alone with you for an hour. I want to kiss you all over.”

I’d stared right back at her, barely hearing the screaming infant behind us, or the blaring music from the woman’s headphones in front of us. I just saw her, Katia, her ripe, naturally pink lips, her jet-black hair, the tiny diamond glinting from her lightly freckled nose. When I reached up and traced her lips, you’d stirred, gently knocking my knee with yours. “You can. Well, not alone, exactly. I’m with him,” I’d whispered, getting close enough to make sure my lips grazed her earlobe. “It’s our honeymoon, but he wants me to bring someone home for us to share.”

“I’m good at sharing,” she’d whispered back, and she’d proven exactly how good once we were settled into our suite. Fresh from a hot shower we’d shared, our kisses making me tingle all over, Katia had gotten you and me on our backs and eased her mouth from one to the other until I was absolutely dripping wet, desperate for more. “You get on top of him,” she’d instructed, in the sweetest, silkiest voice possible. It was an order, but a gentle one. If I’d had a better plan I’m sure she’d have gone along with it, but there was nothing I wanted more than your cock inside me, my body primed from her hot, hungry tongue. She eased you inside me and just as I moaned and thought I might come right then and there, her tongue was back, lapping between the cheeks she held open with those soft, delicate hands. Her tongue pressed against my rosebud, making me groan.

“She’s licking me,” I’d whispered frantically before burying my face in your neck. She worked me into a frenzy, one that your hard, driving cock only made more frantic. When Katia’s fingers reached around me to circle my clit, I came, trembling against both of you, then biting your neck when her fingers didn’t stop dancing against my hard bud. She raised her head, only to nip at the soft flesh of my ass while she coaxed another climax from me. But it wasn’t until she lifted me off of you, pressed three fingers deep inside me, then eased them out and put them in your mouth that I really lost it. The look of sheer ecstasy on your face had me slamming down on top of you, fucking you harder than I ever had. You looked right at me while you sucked her fingers, and I came for the third time, something I’d also never done.

“Can I taste him?” she’d asked, and no sooner were the words out of her mouth than I was climbing off of you, wrapping my hand around the base of your cock, and feeding it to her. She didn’t swallow the whole thing greedily like I would have. Instead, Katia was like a cat with a bowl of milk, her tongue slowly licking up the cream at the tip, one long stroke at a time. I’d never seen a woman give a blow job up close like that, and I didn’t even think about what I did next, I just leaned forward and joined her, my tongue on one side of the ridged crown, hers on the other. Soon we were taking turns putting the head in our mouths, but I let her do the honors when you started to buck your hips up and down. I was too blissed out to give you the proper care and devotion you deserved, but Katia certainly wasn’t. I saw her saliva glinting off the length of your shaft as she rose all the way up, opened those beautiful brown eyes to stare at me, then, keeping her gaze locked on mine, moved all the way down. When I reached out to stroke her hair, you grabbed my hand and we both put just a little pressure on her head, enough to make her moan. Soon you were fucking her face—there’s no other way to describe it. She was grunting like an animal and you were lost in the feel of her mouth.

If someone had told me I’d spend the first night of my honeymoon watching another woman giving my husband head—and liking it—a few years before, or even a few weeks before, I’d have thought they were crazy. But in the moment, it was the hottest thing ever. There was no separation between us; we were all connected by our desire, our yearning to give and get pleasure all at the same time. When you came, I could tell instantly, even though Katia expertly sucked down every drop. “I think you should let Katia sit on your face,” you told me. Oh my goodness. Of course. I lay back and soon she was on top of me, not writhing wildly, but slowly pressing herself against my mouth, enveloping my senses with her perfume. You got between my legs and ate me while I ate her, and even though your tongue distracted me from what I was doing, nobody minded. Eventually her languid movements weren’t enough for me, and I pulled her tight against me, loving how wet she was getting, loving it even more when she came. She repeated her clit stroking as you kept your mouth on me, so I got to experience a fourth orgasm that knocked me out. Katia was gone by the time I woke up, but what she left us with was an insatiable sense of sexual adventure.

Since then we’ve bedded men, women and couples—only while traveling, never back home. Today will be a first, though, and I not only don’t want to let you down, I’m curious what it’ll be like. Though I’ve had more partners than most of my married friends, when I’m with you, it always feels like married sex, no matter how many people are in the room. This time, it’s just me, and I have to imagine you watching, you whispering to me, you encouraging me. I still get nervous, as you well know, but I’ve loved every single one of our encounters, both in the moment, and how they spur us on later when we’re alone.

I text you a quick hello along with a photo of me, and just as I’m finished sending it, I see a man watching me. His head is shaved, and he towers over my five-two frame. I can tell he’s muscular from how his suit doesn’t quite fit him, even though he looks amazing. He’s taller and wider and probably stronger than you, but again, I know that if you were here you wouldn’t be threatened. Remember that pro football player we picked up, the one who not only bent me over and, with my head buried in the sheets, fucked me so well I squirted, but also fucked you? I think about that when I’m alone sometimes. It was one of the hottest things we’ve ever done. I wonder if Mr. Muscles would ever want to be with a man like you. Instantly, I blush; I can never hide that.

You’ve told me that’s one of the things you love about me—how easily I blush, how readily you can tell when I’m thinking something dirty. The muscle guy walks over. “Hi,” he says, his voice deep yet somehow boyish. “You busy?”

“Just waiting for my plane. Going on a business trip,” I say.

“Me too. Meetings, but not till three tomorrow.” Our flight’s at seven and is only an hour and a half, which means we both have a whole night free. “Look, I don’t want to bother you if you aren’t interested”—he nods at my wedding ring, which I only take off when I shower—“but I couldn’t help noticing you.”

“I’m interested,” I say quietly. I’ve had this conversation dozens of times, but it’s never easy to tell a stranger you’re in an open marriage, and it’s even more challenging without you by my side to help ease things along. “I’m…available. Tonight, anyway,” I say with a laugh.

“Tonight works for me,” he says. I motion to the seat next to me and we sit in companionable silence. I have an urge to lean my head on his shoulder, so I do. He strokes my hair, a seemingly gentle touch, but one that sends shivers running through my body. I picture you on my other side, and me snug between two men, one who sets me on edge and one who makes me feel safe—and sexy too. That’s what you do, if you didn’t know; I feel like I could take on the world in every way, knowing you’re there for me.

I don’t say any of this, though; it’s too intimate to share with a stranger. It’s just for you. I give the stranger a look after a few minutes, one of pure desire, conveyed through my lowered lashes. I don’t need to talk dirty just yet; in fact, the silence makes our gaze all the more powerful. He puts his hand on my cheek, cupping my face toward him, but instead of kissing me, he runs his thumb along my lower lip, folding it back against my chin before pinching it. Tears rush to my eyes and I’m utterly lost in his touch. I still feel your silent, unspoken presence near me, but it’s starting to recede just slightly—forgive me—as this man works his magic on me.

“I only need one night,” he says, then pinches my lip even harder before moving it aside, reaching into his bag and pulling out a notepad and pen. “Write down how you’re going to suck my cock,” he whispers, his voice as prim and proper as his words are not.

If his command is meant to shock me, it fails completely. Instead, it thrills me. I picture you watching me as I write, you who know so well exactly how I suck your cock—and how I love it. I write down what I think I will do, what makes me most excited about this most intimate act, but I also know that sex is the most unpredictable act ever invented. Just when you think you know what to expect, someone or something or some emotion comes along to make you feel as giddy as a virgin again. It’s like that with you, anyway, and I’ve given you at least a thousand blow jobs, by my estimate. My cheeks do grow hot, which means they burn red, as I write down my oral plans, passing the note to him and then looking away.

“Your husband is a lucky man,” the stranger whispers in my ear as we board the plane. My nipples get so hard it’s almost painful. As luck would have it, our seats are next to each other. Once we're seated, I look out the window—toward you, my version of you. I wish you were here, not because I need you to be, but because I want you to be. I want you to smile with pride when I take him in my mouth, to tell him naughty facts about me while I swallow him whole.

I manage to make it through landing, though my panties are drenched by the end. I don’t tell the man because he has to know by now. I’ve been tightening and releasing, taking deep breaths, alternating between thinking about him and you. “Ready?” he asks as the flight attendant tells us we are free to go.

Am I? Not exactly, but I’m ready as I’ll ever be. I touch my phone in my purse and think about texting you, giving you a heads-up, letting you follow my actions vicariously. But I don’t. I’m not sure why, except that maybe I’d rather tell you later and try to be in the moment. Instead, I nod and then impulsively take out the camera I’d so carefully loaded, and give it to my new lover. “Show him how lucky he is,” I say with a wink. My exaggerated flirting is silly, but he rolls with it.

We’re in the baggage claim area now, waiting for our luggage. I pose suggestively for the camera—for you, but also for this man, who, when the conveyer belt starts to rumble, pulls me close and gives me a deep, sensual kiss. I can feel other passengers’ eyes on me, but I don’t care. I like that they have no idea what we really are to each other, no idea that my lips are right here, my body now curving toward this man, but part of me is with you. We break apart and I am hot all over. Thankfully our bags arrive shortly. I was going to take the subway, but he pulls me toward the taxi stand.

He beckons me toward him in the backseat as we’re whisked toward Manhattan. He asks where I want to go and I say his hotel; my room is just for me—and you, of course. I unbutton my coat and toss my long red hair all around, grateful it’s still sleek and straight after the plane ride. He takes photo after photo, which makes me want to share more of myself. I flash him my breasts in their lacy, hot-pink bra, laughing as I throw my head back.

Soon we’ve arrived, and I people-watch while he checks in, smiling as I ogle a six-foot-tall woman I know you’d love to bend over for. She notices me watching her, and I smile. If you were here, maybe I’d do more than that. Instead, I follow the man upstairs, aware of how hard my nipples are. He slips the key card in the door and once it’s shut, says, “You’ve had my dick hard the whole flight. I almost jerked off in the bathroom, but I wanted to save it for you. Show me those gorgeous breasts again.” I drop my coat right on the carpet and unbutton my blouse until it hangs wide open. I peel down the cups of my bra and show him my breasts. This time, the camera stays in his bag while he moves toward me, hunger on his face.

He pulls me close and sucks my nipples one at a time, using not just teeth, tongue or lips, but a combination of all three. It goes on and on and on until I want to buckle under him. When I reach for his cock, he holds me back, though. “Call him,” he says, whipping out his phone. “I want him to hear you come.” I freeze. This might be too much for you; it borders on being more intimate than you’d like me to be without you. Yet am I really without you if you’re listening, maybe even touching yourself?

Hesitantly, I dial you. “Hey, baby,” you say as I adjust the setting to speakerphone. “What’s up? Where are you?”

“In a hotel room,” I say. I turn around for a modicum of privacy, but I can still hear him taking off his pants. “I’m with someone I met on the plane. A man.”

“Are you?” you say teasingly.

“Yes. He wanted me to call you.” I pause until the silence is more unbearable than my next words. “He wants you to hear me come.”

“Oh my goodness, Sunny,” he says. Now the man knows my name, but I don’t care because I can hear how aroused you are. “Let me talk to him.”

I hand him the phone, but he adjusts the settings so I can’t hear anything except “Got it,” and “Will do.” He puts the phone back down, and you say to me, “Be a good girl for him, baby. I’m listening.”

Instead of pressure, though, all I hear is permission—to be myself, my best self, with you by proxy. He picks me up and throws me onto the bed, and in a few quick moves has my clothes off and my wrists tied above my head with my bra. I squirm, turned on in the way only bondage can make me. He fishes out the camera and snaps a photo, then says, “Spread those pretty legs for me, Sunny.” I blush at his use of my name, and at exposing myself so blatantly, but I do it. “And open your eyes,” he adds.

I stare back at him until he finally gets his fix then kneels next to me to show me his cock. “Your husband wants me to fuck you nice and hard, said that’s what you like, so that’s what I’m going to do.” He gets a condom out of his bag and rolls it on while I wait for him. Normally I’d touch my clit before penetration, but I can’t at the moment. He rubs the head of his cock against my clit for me, then the wetness along my slit, but when I start to thrust and urge him inside, he pulls back. “I was warned that you can be greedy,” he says, pinching my clit instead. “Roll over. Now you have to wait for my cock.”

No sooner have I managed to roll over, arms still bound with my bra, than he lifts me up and positions me across his lap. He spanks me hard, way harder than would normally happen the first time I’m with a new partner. You must have said something about how much I can take. The smacks are sharp and perfectly placed, my bound wrists hanging in front of me. He gives me two fingers to suck, and I am grateful for the distraction as the whacks get even harder. I whimper against his fingers, but not in protest. After a round of blows so intense they make me wonder if I need to ask for a break, he finally touches me. I’m dripping wet, so the three fingers sink inside fast. “You were right. She responded very well to her spanking,” he says to you in a loud, exaggerated voice, making me even wetter.

Then he slides the bra off my wrists, settles me on my hands and knees, ass in the air, and enters me. With only a few thrusts, I’m coming, my moans filling the air. “I love hearing you like that,” you say, and I smile. Maybe this isn’t so different from you watching up close and personal. “I want him to come on your tits and send me a photo. You’ll do that for me, won’t you?”

“Of course,” I tell you. And of course, it’s not just for you; I am a glutton for a man showering me with come. Yours is my favorite, but after the way this man just fucked me, I am ready to feel him give it to me.

He turns me over, removes the condom, and stands over me, cock in hand. He’s going to make it rain down on me. “Do you want to taste it?” he asks.

“Yes,” I say, panting. He strokes himself, while I stare up at him in awe. I can hear you doing the same thing. When he sinks down onto the bed next to me, his hardness mere inches from my mouth, I know it’s time. I open wide, and soon he’s spraying my breasts and face with his hot cream, his shout echoing in the room. We hear your frantic breathing and then the long exhale of release. The man runs his fingers from my breast up my chest and neck, pushing some of his seed into my mouth as I greedily swallow it, a little bit of extended bliss.

“Get his card, baby. Maybe next time we can all get together,” you say before hanging up. Wouldn’t that be wonderful?

Once again, here's where to leave your review. Read more from the book via the excerpts posted at bweoftheyear.com. And here's my smile plus a little cleavage to let you know just how grateful I am:

Rachel BWE-3

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Monday, April 18, 2016

What it's like to be married and having an affair with an ex

That's the subject of one of my recent Elle.com Love, Actually interviews.

elleaffair

I'm sharing this because I'm looking for more women to interview anonymously about your sex and dating lives. If that's you or someone you know, please get in touch or pass along the above link or this post. I would especially like to talk to a woman who's dating someone at least 15 years younger or older than her, but as you can see from the topics below, I'm looking for all sorts of women to profile for this series, and I will repeat again that you can be completely anonymous. I've changed everyone's name except one who allowed me to keep her first name. Who am I looking to talk to? You can be a virgin or a woman who has sex with someone different every night, as long as you're willing to let me ask you some very personal questions about what that experience is like; I'm looking to interview women from age 18 into their eighties and nineties of all sexual orientations, those in relationships and those who aren't. Email me at ellesexstories at gmail.com and tell me a little about yourself and what you'd want to discuss. Here are the interviews I've done so far:

How sexual assault affected a married woman's sex life

A wife having an affair with her more well-endowed ex

Three weeks after giving birth, she's ready for sex

Life as a disabled single woman who's actively dating

A wife confesses to her husband that she's a BDSM submissive and wants him to dominate her

What it's like to have a spouse who's transitioning

Sex in an open marriage

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Sunday, April 17, 2016

BDSM oral history: find out what inspired 71-year-old erotica author Dorothy Freed's story "Two Doms for Dinner" in this podcast interview

I've written before about the power of bringing people together via erotica, which I believe can happen online and offline. In this case, it was a combination of the two: after our January San Francisco Best Women's Erotica of the Year, Volume 1 reading at Good Vibrations, two of the book's contributors, Rose Caraway and Dorothy Freed, met and connected.

rosedorothypic

As Rose puts it:
Dorothy Freed stands at not-quite 5 feet tall and she is 71 years old. She’s tougher than nails and is as hospitable and classy as can be. She is a submissive who knows what she wants, and when it comes to her incredible writing, she pulls from actual events from her past. (In Best Women’s Erotica, her story; ‘Two Doms for Dinner’ is based on true events.) I asked Dorothy about herself and as she spoke, I knew that her voice, her words, her STORY had to be heard by more than just me.
This is an amazing, inspiring interview, which you can listen to by clicking below or going here (and I strongly encourage you to subscribe to Rose's Sexy Librarian podcast in iTunes to hear all her wonderful interviews with erotica authors) about a single mother who finds a new way of life via BDSM and sexual exploration, and goes on to write about it. On a personal level, it helped remind me that my work doesn't just exist in products to be sold and measured by such sales, but in bringing people together, in ways that can reverberate far and wide. It reminded me that words don't just exist on the page, but are part of our souls and our lifeblood. The words we pen are part of how we bond with others, how we make sense of the world around us and our place in it, and you can hear that as Rose and Dorothy talk.

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I will give you a brief excerpt from what was a crowd favorite at our reading, Dorothy's story "Two Doms for Dinner," which is indeed about the one female narrator enjoying two men dominating her at once. I strongly encourage you to read (or listen to) the story in full!
From "Two Doms for Dinner" by Dorothy Freed

“Well isn’t this a sight to behold,” Sir says, reaching down to tease the crack of my ass. I arch my back slightly and sigh with pleasure. By now my legs begin trembling and I’m ordered to rise and present myself—legs apart, shoulders back, hands behind my head. I stand proud, smiling, knowing the pose makes my breasts stand out. Charles is eating me up with his eyes. Sir cuffs my wrists and attaches them to chains that hang from the ceiling.

“I’ve laid out some of my favorite toys,” he tells Charles, indicating the various implements of pleasure spread out on his desk. “I’m going to give D a warm-up with some of these toys and show you how she responds to them. Feel free to join in. The more the merrier.”

He begins with the small rubber whip, which is actually my favorite, dangling it over my breasts, whipping them lightly and making my nipples even harder than they already are. Behind me Charles’s big, warm hands slide down over my back and rear before delivering a series of smacks to my asscheeks.

The two Doms switch positions. Sir moves behind me, spanking me with the long-handled leather paddle, which makes a loud slapping sound as it strikes. Charles, facing my front, gazes into my eyes as he tweaks my nipples and then amuses himself by lightly slapping my breasts, making them swing back and forth. “Ohhh, Sirs,” I moan, as the sensations intensify.

“She responds well to nipple clamps. Try the small red ones,” Sir suggests.

“Excellent idea, don’t mind if I do.” With an evil grin Charles clips each of my nipples, teasing them with his fingers. My breasts begin to tingle; they feel lit up from the inside out.
Read the rest of "Two Doms for Dinner" in Best Women's Erotica of the Year, Volume 1, available from the following online retailers - if you liked the above interview, I highly recommend listening to Rose Caraway read all 22 sexy stories in the audiobook:

BWEOfThe Year_approved

Amazon (print)

Kindle

Barnes & Noble (print)

Nook

Powells

Books-a-Million

IndieBound (find your nearest local bookstore)

Cleis Press

Amazon UK (print)

Amazon UK Kindle

Amazon Canada (print)

Amazon Canada Kindle

Want to shop local and support independent bookstores and sex toy stores? Check out IndieBound linked above and you can click here for a full shopping list of stores I know have the book (those stores all have my endless gratitude and are ones I've shopped from and will shop from if I'm nearby and encourage you to shop from).

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Wednesday, April 06, 2016

Travel erotica sale alert: The Mile High Club: Plane Sex Stories is only $1.99!

Another sale, this time, my travel erotica anthology The Mile High Club: Plane Sex Stories, which is only $1.99 for the next few days on Kindle, Nook, Google Play, iBooks and Kobo. And while , narrated by the fabulous Lucy Malone and Sean Crisden, is not technically on sale, you can listen to a free sample on Audible and get it for just $3.99 once you buy the Kindle edition, so that's a bargain happening this week too. (A heads up that this book was also reissued as Flying High so if you have that, you don't need this; reissues happen when the first edition doesn't do as well as hoped for to give it a second life.)

Mile HighYES

I think this is my only anthology that's location-specific, and what I truly treasure about it is that the authors took what could be a cliche and turned it on its head. Yes, there are stories about sex with airplane seat mates, but so so much more. Below is the table of contents and introduction and a little bit of my story "Urgent Message" with a little added color (ha!) that's not in the print or ebook version of the book, though it would be cool if I could do colored type. Remember that this book was first published in 2009, when wifi on airplanes was relatively new, so my story is tinged with that sense of awe, though I've cut to the chase below and given you some of the juiciest, dirtiest parts of their mile high flirting rather than the setup.

From The Mile High Club: Plane Sex Stories

34B Bill Kte’pi
Instrument Flight Rules Zach Lindley
A Brief Respite Desiree
Get On, Get Off Jeremy Edwards
The Scream Queen Sommer Marsden
Wild Child Matt Conklin
Bermuda Triangle Vanessa Vaughn
Top Banana Craig J. Sorensen
Nasty Little Habit Donna George Storey
Urgent Message Rachel Kramer Bussel
Obedient Teresa Noelle Roberts
Aisle Seat Stan Kent
Game in the Sky Elizabeth Coldwell
When Your Girlfriend Wears a Very Short Skirt Thomas S. Roche
Planes, Trains and Banana-Seat Bicycles Alison Tyler
Flights of Fancy Geneva King
The Girl Most Likely Kristina Wright
Bert and Betty Ryan Field
Wing Walker Cheyenne Blue

Introduction: Flying High

The Mile High Club is, for many, the stuff of legend, but I’m here to tell you that where there’s a will, there’s a way. Flying can bring out so many of our insecurities, fears, and frustrations, that it’s natural we’d want to find a way to relieve all that tension by getting it on. Indeed, several of the stories here deal with sex as a way to conquer a fear of flying.

Just as I was completing this volume, I got a call from a friend who told me that on the way back from a family vacation, he got it on with a woman he ran into on the plane whom he’d known, but never slept with. They managed to have full-on intercourse (and much more) as the rest of the passengers slept⎯or so they thought! They found out later that they’d been true exhibitionists, seen by horny voyeurs. In these stories, characters are often surprised to find themselves engaging in such risqué behavior mid-flight. The surprise and naughtiness make what’s happening even hotter. For others, it’s been carefully orchestrated, such as the woman meeting her online pen pal in “34B” or the one putting her arsenal of sex toys to good use in “Obedient.”

Others scenarios are more fanciful, and, unless you’re really lucky, are probably not going to happen to you. Part of the thrill of even thinking about the mile high club is that in such close quarters, someone’s bound to notice the movements, noises, and sensations of sex happening near thehim or her. Voyeurism and exhibitionism are part and parcel of sex on a plane, even if you never officially get caught. I’m sure you are probably picturing getting it on in a tiny airplane bathroom, and yes, that happens here. But there’s more than one way to join the Mile High Club, as the “Wild Child” in the story by Matt Conklin learns when her kinky new friend asks for some extra ice. And in “Bermuda Triangle,” we’re introduced to a threesome that takes edge play to new heights, as a man is blindfolded and instructed to fly, his fear upping the ante for the novel sexual encounter about to take place.

While this isn’t a how-to manual, I’m sure you can pick up a few tips on the fine art of blanket placement and in-flight discretion from these talented writers. Alas, during the numerous flights I’ve taken in the last year, nothing so risqué has happened to me, but that hasn’t stopped me from fantasizing about what might be going on a few rows over, or wondering, as I stand in the security line, who might try to pick me up. I love that Wi-Fi is the wave of the flying future, as I write about in my story “Urgent Message,” and I’m looking forward to much in-the-air flirting.

Whether you’re a member of the Mile High Club or just want to be, I hope these stories take you on some exciting trips, and that your next plane ride is just as eventful! Please feel free to share your story or keep up with what’s new in plane sex at my blog at http://milehighclubbook.wordpress.com.

Rachel Kramer Bussel
New York City

Excerpt from "Urgent Message" by Rachel Kramer Bussel:
But Brandon brings out the dirty girl inside me, the girl my straight-A, choir and track team member former self could never have imagined. Even now, I retain so much of my good-girl polish, at least on the outside. Before Brandon, I dated guys who would never think of wanting a lady on the streets and a whore in the bedroom. “Whore” probably wasn’t even in their vocabulary, whereas Brandon loved to taunt me with it, whispering it in my ear as I teetered on that perilous, wondrous brink of orgasm, knowing that the prospect of being a woman of the night would send me crashing over the edge.

Where are your panties, young lady? was blinking on my screen—in red. Next thing I knew, he’d be going to all caps.

Just a sec, I typed, feeling a rush of wetness soak said item of clothing.

My panties were already skimpy to begin with; I like to travel wearing my sexiest undies to remind me that while I may not have my man with me, I have something to look forward to when I go home. In fact, most of my plain-Jane, boring cotton panties have gone by the wayside in favor of silk, satin, lace and mesh in a rainbow of colors. Brandon has made his mark all over my body, and in my dresser drawers.

I pondered how best to go about this. Removing my bra in the locker room in college without showing my tits was easier than this maneuver would be. I placed the laptop on the tray in front of me, then undid my seat belt, trying to be as silent as possible so as not to attract attention. I reached into the waistband of my skirt and pushed one edge of my panties down one hip, then did the same with the other.

I had to get them down far enough so that I could wiggle them the rest of the way with my legs. My face was hot, and surely blushing, as he continued to type away, the screen refreshing as I squirmed. I wish I could see you slithering out of those panties, wish I could see between your legs to what they were covering. Even though I just tasted you this morning, baby, I miss you already. It’s just not the same without you, but I’m trying.

Tell me what you’re doing. I have my panties halfway down my thighs
, I typed back in a flash, grateful for all those years of temping that had gifted me with the ability to type one-hundred words per minute, or one-handed, if need be. I wiggled against the seat, shifting one leg and hip, then the other, as I felt my panties move slowly down my legs.

I’ve got my dick poking out of the waistband of my briefs. I can see the head straining. I wish you were here to lick it. Oh god. I’m getting out the lube now, the one you got us last time, at that store…the one that made you scream when I rubbed it all over you. Every word he typed brought back memories of us doing it in various places. I’d found the lube at a sex superstore in Austin on my last trip there, and it had come in at just under three ounces, which allowed me to carry it on the plane.

We’d had so much fun with it, we’d quickly gone through that tiny bottle, and had to order a supersized one online. The image of his cock he was painting had me breathing hard. I bit my lip, wishing I had something to put in my mouth. He was setting off every hot button of my oral fixation.

I pushed my panties farther down, my hands on top of them over my skirt, keeping my eyes glued to the screen, as if what I were doing wasn’t completely deliberate. Maybe I could say I had an itch and was scratching it, if anyone noticed. I turned to my left, horrified suddenly when I realized my potential audience didn’t just include the people on either side of me, but those in the rest of my row as well. Any of them could glance over and see me slipping my hot pink panties down my legs, over my feet, and into the pouch filled with flight safety instructions and the airline’s magazine. It would be a gift to some lucky flight attendant or, if they did a lackluster job of cleaning, a future passenger. But I didn’t care about that; I cared about obeying Brandon’s order.

Well, Cindy? Are you done yet? I don’t have all day. I mean, I’m almost ready to come all over you, and I don’t want to ruin your pretty underwear.
Keep reading all the hot dirty words in "Urgent Message" in The Mile High Club, this week only $1.99 in these formats:

Kindle

Nook

Google Play

iBooks

Kobo

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Thursday, March 31, 2016

Tonight's our big Chicago erotica reading - please join us and help spread the word!

In just under six hours at 6 p.m. central time tonight, I'll be reading with contributors to Best Women's Erotica of the Year, Volume 1 and Come Again: Sex Toy Erotica: Tara Betts, Rose P. Lethe and Corrine A Silver in Chicago at The Pleasure Chest, 3436 N. Lincoln Avenue (Brown line to Paulina). If you can help spread the word, I'd greatly appreciate it as I dropped the ball a bit with promoting this one, which I was reminded of yesterday as I wandered Chicago and kept seeing kiosks with all the papers I didn't send my listing to (sorry, Chicago!!!). Here's the Facebook event page. I'm truly honored to have these women join me and look forward to hearing them read their sexy stories in their own words. Plus we'll be doing a Q&A afterward so you can ask us anything about the writing process (or me about editing the Best Women's Erotica of the Year series; the deadline to submit to Volume 2 is tomorrow).

wemedium

It's been a month, which I'll share more about soon, but to put it briefly, March has been a time of upheaval and change and decision making, and one of the conclusions I reached is that I won't be doing any more work travel this year save for Book Expo in May. Travel is both physically draining and expensive and takes time away from my relationship and my other income-generating work writing, teaching and consulting. I do love connecting with people live, but especially through teaching my LitReactor online writing classes, I've realized I can reach more people and take better care of myself when I work closer to home and that's what I'll be doing the rest of the year.

That being said, yesterday I got to see some lovely and unexpected art as I explored Chicago and took photos I've put up on my Instagram account and the Best Women's Erotica of the Year one (go awesome indie bookstores!), including this:

chicagoschool

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Monday, March 28, 2016

Ebook sale alert: My BDSM erotica anthology Yes, Sir: Erotic Stories of Female Submission is $1.99 this week!

New week, new kinky book of mine on sale! Get Yes, Sir: Erotic Stories of Female Submission for just $1.99 on Amazon, Nook, Google Play, iBooks and Kobo. I love this book and how creative the BDSM is in it and if you are interested in BDSM or curious about it, I think you'll like it too. And if you do, I will shamelessly ask that you leave a review wherever you bought it; even a sentence helps new readers find my books, which in turn helps me get more book deals to keep editing them. This is an oldie but goodie that I treasure and I love that these stories read as novel to me as when I first edited them back in 2007 (the book came out in 2008). Thank you!

RKB-Book-Promo-Yes-Sir

Table of Contents
Introduction: Ready to Say Yes, (Sir)
The Art of Darkness • Alison Tyler
Dear Professor Pervert • Donna George Storey
A Necessary Connection • Debra Hyde
The Editor • Amanda Earl
Ribbons • Kathryn O’Halloran
The Day I Came in Public • D. L. King
Lunch • Elizabeth Coldwell
When Penny Met Harry • Stan Kent
The Power of No • Teresa Noelle Roberts
In the Corner • Sommer Marsden
Stuck at Work and Late for a Date • Chelsea Summers
Running Wild • Shanna Germain
Pink Is the Enemy • Jocelyn Bringas
Sitting on Ice Cream • Lisette Ashton
Under His Hand, I Blossom • Nikki Magennis
Make Me • Rachel Kramer Bussel
Body Electric • Lisabet Sarai
Reclaiming the Sofa • Maddy Stuart
How Bad Do You Want It? • Gwen Masters

When I started working on Yes, Sir, I didn’t expect the title phrase to be taken as a literal motto, but more as a call to arms (or rather, to surrender one’s arms) for submissive women who seek out dominant men. I intended Yes, Sir and its companion volume Yes, Ma’am to be the bottoms’ answer to my previous collections He’s on Top and She’s on Top, to showcase our fantasies, desires, and deepest wishes. I wanted those of us who love to be tied up, spanked, blindfolded, bound, or “used” for another’s pleasure, to tell it like it is, to explore why and how we get off in these ways, and the authors presented here gave me what I was looking for—and more.

Here you’ll find all sorts of women for whom their own personal Sirs (or Masters or Daddies) hold the reins to their erotic pleasure. For them, saying yes (or a bratty, defiant no for which they’ll be duly punished) is as powerful as a good, hard smack on the ass. They give up control in all kinds of ways, from letting their doms decide who they’ll fuck to when they’ll come to which color panties are acceptable—and which aren’t. In one of these stories (you’ll have to keep reading to figure out which one), playing at Sir, having your lover become the Sir of your dreams when real life may dictate otherwise, lets the two players take their kink to a whole new level.

Some are old pros at BDSM, and have had many masters, while for others, the language of domination and submission is a novelty. They may not know exactly why they thrill to being told what to do, but they know for sure that they like it, as in the case of the newbie in “Sitting on Ice Cream.” D. L. King’s Libby overcomes her natural shyness in “The Day I Came in Public,” proving that the very acts she first scoffs at are ones that give her no end of delight. It’s almost as if the doms who enter their lives see the potential for submission in these women, and want to bring it forth for their own naughty motives, along with making the women come harder than they ever have before.

The inherent power dynamics of the classroom are brought to light in Donna George Storey’s “Dear Professor Pervert,” a story in which, once official class time ends, the real learning (about everything from masturbation to butt plugs) begins, as well as in Lisabet Sarai’s “Body Electric,” wherein a prominent professor shows a colleague his very intriguing “apparatus.” In Sommer Marsden’s “In the Corner,” the man who first introduced Amelia to kink lures her away from her current “nice guy” date.

These women aren’t pushovers by any means. They make rules and negotiate with their masters, though sometimes they also get off on being pushed just a little too far by men they know they can trust. In “The Art of Darkness,” Alison Tyler writes, “Once Killian understood my fear, his mission became not to save me from my phobia, but to exploit it, every chance he could.” She objects, but when she finally surrenders, she experiences a whole new world, where a blindfold is the path to ecstasy. And the woman who lets her man dictate her meals in Elizabeth Coldwell’s delicious “Lunch”? Well, she knows exactly what she’s doing. “I could go home and just tell Michael I’d done as he instructed. But he would know. He always knows when I try to disobey him, however careful or sneaky I try to be.” In other words, she’s not doing what he says simply because he says it, but because something inside her gets off on obeying. So too in Shanna Germain’s story, the protagonist makes an active choice to go where her inner ache to submit compels her: “‘Follow,’ he said. Something in me resisted, but the power of his voice, the way he walked away from me as though he knew I would trail after him, made it so I couldn’t say no.” And the woman getting fucked on the sofa in Maddy Stuart’s short, sexy tale flinches at the words slut and whore, even as her body responds to them. This duality, with the brain protesting but the blood rushing to the surface, is also part of the thrill of submission, especially for strong, powerful women.

These writers make clear just how much their characters get off when they say “Yes, Sir,” whether literally or figuratively. Sure, they may be doing their masters’ bidding, but the masters are often doing the subs, in their own way, as well, making them ache, moan, quiver, and, yes, come. They know just how to draw out their subs’ pleasure (and pain), how to make the most of a woman whether she’s on her knees, or bent over, or at her computer waiting for the next command. They know that denial, temptation, and frustration can be the most arousing acts of all. They know that, as Teresa Noelle Roberts puts it, “The Power of No” can often be just as hot as the power of yes. Gwen Masters asks in her title, “How Bad Do You Want It?”

I turn that question over to you, dear reader. How bad do you want to be bound, gagged, spanked, or slapped? How bad do you want to have your hair pulled, your nipples clamped, your body strung up? How bad do you want to pant, gasp, scream, and squirm? How bad do you want to turn over some part of yourself to a man just dying to strip you bare and take you somewhere you’ve never been? I don’t know about you, but I want all of those things, very much, and, I’m thankful to say, I (and you) have them all right here. Just turn the page, and be prepared not to get up for a good long while.

Rachel Kramer Bussel
New York City

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