Archives: year in review

2020 is hindsight (a year-end review)

Okay, so it ended almost a month ago–can you blame me for taking several weeks to summon the necessary courage to anthologize last year?

Ultimately, the thing I wrote in 2020 that most encapsulates the year is probably my girlfriend’s eulogy.

At the same time, if you gave me the chance to relive 2020, I’d say yes–because in it I lived for about six months alongside (often metaphorically, through text message, but even so) one of the most incredible people I’ve ever known. And those six months were worth the six months that came after.

The final half of 2020 had one or two saving graces as well–the nationwide party on November 7th comes to mind, and on a slightly smaller scale, the October 24th release of the New Smut Project’s third book, Erato.

I’d started Erato for two reasons: one, it seemed like a good idea to have something to sink my passion into in addition to my gorgeous boytoy–independence being part of a healthy relationship–and two, I simply found myself itching to put together a book. It was a project of pure desire. In hindsight, both those reasons hold up well. But let’s talk more about projects of desire–about the books and stories worked on in 2020.

So the year started, back in what my family now calls “precedented times,” with another putting-together-a-book project: I formatted easy-to-read PDF, ebook, and paperback editions of Teleny, OR The Reverse of the Medal, aka Oscar Wilde’s gay erotic novel. The PDF can be downloaded for free here, while the paperback and Kindle versions turned out to be my personal Amazon account’s bestsellers for 2020, if not for all time. I’m trying not to take that personally. After all, it’s Oscar Wilde. At least it may have been. Speculation abounds. Why not read it yourself so you have some firsthand data, as it were, from which to speculate? ;D

Another somewhat different project started in 2020, on this very blog, in the realm of nonfiction: I wrote several sex toy reviews. They were very fun and offered a chance to contemplate some important questions about what makes a sex toy, or sex more generally, enjoyable. Astroglide, the Sili Saddle, and the NJoy Pure Plug all made the year (and beyond) a bit brighter.

Around Valentine’s day, my Poe-inspired f/f erotic romance appeared in Mystique, an anthology of gay and lesbian fantasy. You can read my elevator-pitch summary of it and an excerpt here. The connection to plague and any other resemblances to reality are coincidental and/or blameable on Poe.

In April, Infernal Ink released its penultimate issue of erotic horror, which included my piece “Beyond Words.” It’s about a variation of lycanthropy, and young love, and moments stolen in the woods, and being left breathless… violent, bittersweet, and okay, I admit it, kinda hot.

My story “Route 34”, or any of the 9 other stories in the Rule 34: Volume 2 anthology, probably didn’t turn out to be as weird as this year was. And since it’s about the unexpected pleasures of being stuck in traffic, it might be more escapist or nostalgic than relatable. But one thing I hope a lot of us can relate to is the blushing, giddiness-inducing thrill of sharing a weird turn-on with your partner and watching them run to fulfill it, or vice versa, the fun of fulfilling your partner’s unique desires.

Since I was editing a flash fiction anthology at the time, it was fun to have some of my own literary erotic flash fiction appear on The Erotic Review–“Like That” is a kernel of what may someday become a much larger story, showing the moments where two ex-lovers suddenly catch a glimpse of what their dynamic might have been about.

Another story, “Annunciation” (on falling in love with the Virgin Mary) appeared in the Cliterature Journal. Unfortunately, it turns out Cliterature “sunset” in July 2020. This lights a fire under me to gather “Annunciation” and a few other pieces together into a short story collection. The collection’s working title is Bodies of Ghosts: Stories of Survival and Longing. Of course, as that title hints, one reason I’ve been holding off on putting together and query (or self-printing) the collection is the obvious–I might have one or two more pieces to write on that central theme before it’s complete.

“To Have and to Hold” entered wide distribution last year, so I’m going to count it as part of the 2020 review because heck, we deserve some romantic pegging.

An aside related to wider distribution: these days, Amazon is basically a necessity to writers who want their books bought. But they’re also a terrifying conglomerate whose power expands each time you blink. So one good thing to come out of 2020 was Bookshop.org, which supports independent bookstores while making online book purchases easy. All the titles I’m mentioning in this post, if they’re in booklike shapes, should be available there alongside previous publications and my own favorite reads.

The Sexy Librarian’s Dirty 30, Volume 3 audiobook came out last year to generally rave reviews. I especially admire the word-stringing panache of the reviewer who says, “I’m the consummate multitasker who thought I could listen in the background while doing other tasks. Not a chance! These tales stiffened my attention like a smack to the cheek.”

“Their Window,” a story of two wives claiming their space in their new home, went up for free on the MMURE website.

And the last piece of the year from me would be “Cold-Kissed,” a wintery but warming pegging story that appeared in BUST Issue #121. It also happens to be the last story of mine that my girlfriend read. “BUST has good taste,” he said.

I also have a story coming out in an anthology this summer that he inspired, and which is dedicated to him.

(A note on future releases: I have a Newsletter for updates in your inbox–it also has a list for anthologies I’ll be editing. And for complete lists of my published fiction, you can always check out my Stories tab, my Year in Review tag, or my author profiles on Amazon, Goodreads, BookBub, or Smashwords.)

And then, in October 2020, ERATO!! Honestly, there’s a point at which words fail to convey my enthusiasm. It contains 50 entries of literary erotic flash fiction that knocked my knee-high leather boots off (not to mention charmed my discerning co-editors), how’s that sound?

It’s been so much fun that I’m even looking forward to someday editing an Erato II–at least that’s my planned title, although my girlfriend did tell me “I admire your restraint in not titling it Era-two.”

In closing: the widow’s fog has started to lift. One thing that helped was moving to a new condo, which has given me a better environment (a view out onto green space, quiet neighbors, many more closets and shelves so I’m not constantly stepping on top of myself). But I haven’t written fiction since my partner died. I’ve drafted some ideas and jotted down notes and outlines. I’ve rewritten and submitted previously-completed stories. And I have many, many ideas for new anthologies to edit. The latter, I think, will be my big project for 2021, because I need to do something I have passion for. A work of desire.

The title of the first one on my to-do list was inspired by a punny love-text from that person I did not leave in 2020, any more than he left me–Cunning Linguists: Language, Literature, and Lechery.

2019 Roundup

I’m not really sure how to summarize 2019. In my personal life, I may as well quote one of the best developments in that personal life: “2019 – that escalated quickly.” On the bright side, I’ve had a wealth of new experiences and some exciting plans for the future. On the dimmer side, I’ve had a wealth of new experiences and have to make some plans for the future.

(Three things I can wholeheartedly recommend: antidepressants when your winter blahs feel worse than blahs, therapy appointments to talk about burnout and other important considerations, and dating a service submissive. The last for reasons far beyond mental health – although that might be a factor too? ;D)

In terms of writing, I like to think I crashed into 2019 with a bang and left with another bang, and here’s to hoping 2020 will be the same!

“Fearless” in Best Lesbian Erotica of the Year, Vol 3

When she was naked, Jenny always felt more powerful—paradoxically untouchable. It was almost as good as being transparent, like sunlit air, like water. She felt strong enough to say, “So… you want to do this?”

Smiling, Tessa reached for her.

“I know.” Blushing, she continued with her apology: “But…this? We could try another day.”

“I think we’ve waited long enough,” Tessa said. “I have.”

“Guessing Game” in Erotic Teasers

“I mean, it feels personal. I’m not sure if it is. Which is weird, right? Not that I don’t enjoy your company,” she added. “I like hanging out with guys. But women, too…”

Roland nodded. “Would you like to get a drink?”

“Sure.” Marisol smiled, but five minutes later she was frowning into her beer. “It’s just a guessing game, I guess.” A grimace at the echo. “But how did I get to be twenty-seven without knowing if I’m lesbian or straight?”

“There are other options,” Roland said.

She looked at him across the table. “Yeah. And it’s even more of a guessing game how people will react if you bring that up.”

“Well.” He tipped his glass toward her. “My boyfriend, my girlfriend, and I all fall on the continuum.”

Her eyes widened. Then her mouth did, showing teeth in a grin. “You have both?”

“They have me.” Maybe it was the beer, maybe it was the brightness of her smile and what it did to his heart jumping in his chest, but Roland decided to go all in. He pushed back his shirt sleeves and raised his wrists to show her.

“Like a Flash Flood” in Escape to Pleasure: Lesbian Travel Erotica

“Yes,” Kim said cheerfully. “I know what it looks like.” Rosa heard the smile in her voice as her girlfriend led the way in. “It’s called a slot canyon.”

Rosa was too dry and breathless to speak. She fell back a few steps to take it all in—yes, the two masses of rock, rusty peach and rose-brown whorls that looked almost soft in their undulating erosions, swept like the spread of full thighs, coming together, parted by only an intimate gap that led deep into the distance. The image had a certain crude yet sensual resemblance.

Also, in this position it framed a great view of Kim’s ass, the way it pressed her shorts as she strode right in.

“Not Quite an Antidote” in The Sexy Librarian’s Dirty 30, Vol 3

Without breaking the kiss, Bela stepped forward, pushing Faon’s body against the wall, and her body against his. His touch continued to rove, a hand at the small of her back pressing her nearer. Clutching his hips, Bela shifted her pelvis, starting to rock and rub.

His moan could almost be taken for a snarl of pain. It didn’t alarm her, but Bela slowed her movements, and then Faon was turning, bringing her with him. She reclined, her shoulders to a storage compartment, and lifted her legs to wrap around his. It brought her groin against him again, the friction sending heat radiating through her mound. And there were his hands holding her under the thighs, so close…

She had to keep rutting, her body singing at contact with his, even though she knew what it was doing to him. But Faon met her with his own blunt thrusts, angling his mouth to meet hers, the kiss messy and interrupted by their panting.

“I want you,” he told her. “So much it barely matters if it kills me.”

Bela jerked her head away so sharply it knocked the metal door behind her. Faon frowned, his hand rising too late to cradle her skull, but she searched his copper-brown eyes for a deeper, more dangerous emotion than concern for her comfort.

He had developed a squint after thousands of hours welding everything from bulkheads to weapons arrays across the ship and on the attack shuttles. She wondered what he thought about all day, if his mind had time to wander. If he was careless enough to let it. Her own tasks among the strategists kept her occupied, at least distracted. Only for a few moments every few hundred hours could she be like this, letting her mind go free, her body take over…

Her body…

“We didn’t win our freedom just to risk your life for this,” she said.

To Have and To Hold (Currently available on Amazon, including through Kindle Unlimited)

“Maybe you should stop trying to make sense of my kinks,” he says, smiling.

“Yeah, maybe I should.”

With some reluctance, she takes her hand from his ass and leans over the side of the bed for her suitcase. He takes the items as she hands them up. The lube, the packets of gloves and condoms, and then the double-headed dildo. It’s in a marbled blue pattern that reminds her of the ocean. The “flesh” color didn’t match either of their skin tones, too pale for hers and too dark for his, and actually, she likes that this one doesn’t look at all realistic. What about any of this is realistic? She’s married, to James, they’re on their honeymoon, the view outside her window looks like a postcard, and she’s about to fuck him just as he wants her to.

Claire leans over him as he spreads his legs, opening a space for her, exposing himself to her. She lifts his balls, already high and tight with his erection, and looks at him. He shivers, a tremble working its way up his thighs and turning into a wiggle along his hips and spine, as if her examination is overwhelming.

“You look good,” she says. “You’re so turned on.” One gloved finger runs along his cock, tracing a vein. “You don’t need to be shy.”

She actually can’t see a lot, his modesty protected by shadows and a little dark, curling hair. In itself that’s sexy to her. Claire has never thought of herself as the kind of person to be turned on by despoiling virgins, but there it is.

Lovely Boy (Currently available on Amazon, including through Kindle Unlimited)

As his soaked collar wilts against his throat, Tobias mutters, “Hey. Look.”

“Believe me, I’m looking.”

“Okay.” He licks his lips. “I can—if there’s anything you want—”

Laughter makes him blush, his head baking with embarrassment and adrenaline.

“Listen. I’m trying to talk about—to offer you a, a ransom or something—”

“I know.” Gloved fingers stroke his cheek, cool and dry. “I know.” Softer; the laugh is gone now. “But why would I want anything but you?”

The heat goes from his face and pools under his stomach, pulsing, throbbing. Tobias breathes in hard. That voice and the laughter run down his spine; as if they’re replacing the fluid inside it, he goes numb and limp for at least a full second. He’s reached surrender.

“The Way Home”: Free Halloween Flash fiction

“Not sure if you remember us,” she said—to the empty shoulder, to the air around them, to the sense of someone listening that filled her. “We were last here fifteen years ago.”

“It’s our tenth wedding anniversary.” Around the bouquet, Ethan’s right index finger stroked the gold ring on his left hand.

A Halloween wedding. They’d included handfuls of trick-or-treat candy in the favor bags. Both their moms had just been glad they chose gold and red for colors, not black.

Well, Gabby always had been a bit goth. She did lose her virginity with a ghost, after all.

 

“The Solution” in Dancing With Myself (Re-released by SinCyr Publishing)

 

And coming in 2020:

“The Passion of Her Sleep” in Mystique: Gay and Lesbian Fantasy Romance

“Route 34” in Rule 34, Vol. 2

 “Did you ever have a girlfriend who worked in a garage?”

“Not that I recall. Or a boyfriend either.” Her fingers over mine and her fingers on the wheel both tapped a staccato message, a bit jaunty, a bit embarrassed. I was remembering her crush on Charlize Theron after that Mad Max movie and wondering how many layers it had.

 

***

A last reflection on 2019…hmm, lots of pegging. Lots and lots of lovely pegging. Oh yeah, in the stories too…

2018 Year in Review

It’s been an exciting year! From flash fiction to novellas, sadism to sweetness to survival, 2018’s roundup has a lot of range. As I observed back in June, Write 1/Sub 1 (er, no, it might not be as kinky as it sounds…) is an extremely effective way to get your words down on the page and out into the world. It did slow down toward the latter half of the year, in part because of my first-ever successful NaNo! And, for what it’s worth, three stories on this list–“The Solution,” “Manifesto,” and “Guessing Game”–include characters and/or scenarios I’m thinking of developing into novels (“Manifesto” is from my femdom NaNo piece, in fact).

A few last quick updates before we get into the stories: first, I confess, some of these are slated for early 2019 publication. But I’m excited about them, and given Escape to Pleasure has a January 1 release date, I think it’s fair to share now! For more complete lists of my published fiction, you can check out my Stories tab, my Year in Review tag, or my author profiles on Amazon, Goodreads, BookBub, or Smashwords (their year-end sale rules December 25-Jan 1). I also have a Newsletter for book release updates in your inbox!

And with no more ado:

 

 

“The Solution” in Dancing With Myself from Sexy Little Pages

Maybe he was going to her—his own other woman. In all our confrontation, I hadn’t asked if he was still seeing her.

The one who smelled of vanilla. Whose scent, rising from his skin as he curled around my body in bed, had started all of this. Not to be confused with my woman who smelled of vanilla, who I wasn’t seeing anymore either.

“Power” at Bare Back Magazine

I’m surprised the first time I feel it. I freeze up, as if in panic, but it’s the farthest thing from fear. The shock lasts only a microsecond, and I doubt you notice my stillness—of course, you’re kind of tied up at the moment, as the pun goes, no less true for being predictable.

“The Summer After” (Novella) in the Seattle Erotic Literary Festival Anthology

There was room enough in my queen-sized bed for us to settle without crowding each other. But we were on the verge of it. Sex, after all, involves some crowding. And here we were, two people who liked our space.

At first only our hands connected. Despite my impulse to touch him all over, to hold him, to cuddle, I was able to resist throwing myself onto him. I got the impression that, by keeping track of my hand in his, he was making sure of me. No sudden moves.

But one of us would have to make the next move. Since I started it, it felt like my responsibility—and my privilege.

Not to rub my greedy paws all over him, however much I wanted to. Instead I started by undressing myself.

I didn’t pull away from his hand to do it. While romantic in conception, in practice this became awkward. I got my sundress to slip down my shoulders and drew my free arm through the strap. With my breasts half-bared, I pulled up the skirt to reach my panties. At that point he let go of me, leaning back as if to watch.

I undressed in front of a mirror all the time; I knew how I did it. It didn’t look particularly sexy. I shrugged out of my clothes, rolled my shoulders and stretched my limbs as they were released. I luxuriated in nakedness, but I wasn’t showing off any one part of me, not even those most wonderful ones. I felt comfortable but I lacked the grace of a striptease. And my underwear and bra didn’t match. I’d dressed that morning for another hot summer day after the apocalypse, not for a seduction.

But he looked at me with wide and warm and admiring eyes, as if he was seduced. And his gaze was more than successful in seducing me. My mouth dried up as I became the center of his focus. Then he licked his lips, absently, almost innocently, and my mouth watered.

“What You Want” in Lust from Pure Slush

It gets to the point where you can’t even sit in the same room with him, because sooner or later your body and mind snap tight, contracting with what you want, an internal orbit around unspeakable things…

It’s one thing to say he’s so handsome you could punch him, but what do you really want?

Because it can’t be that.

Last night, when he took your ringing phone off the coffee table and handed it to you, his bent, broad shoulders and long, lean back and something about the points of his knees through his slim jeans made you want to make him crawl.

“Ripples” at Pink Litter (nsfw image through the link)

It’s a style I’ve come to associate with her, that flattering and sometimes deeply erotic modesty. She makes an art of it. I shiver with a memory of the night she opened her door in long-sleeved, loose and low-cut pajamas with jewelry glittering at her throat and wrists. Jewelry she didn’t take off with the rest. She makes an art of discarding modesty, too.

“The Season” with Circlet Microfiction (and on Circlet’s Tumblr)

He gets out of his chair and kneels beside hers.

She slows her rocking and reaches for him. One hand tangles in his hair to hold him for a brief kiss, tender. Her other hand runs along his shoulder, over his neck; her thumb beneath his jaw nudges his chin up. His mouth opens. As she releases his hair and draws the knife, his parted lips tremble, just slightly. The blade is cool against them.

…His eyes fall shut. Under his knees he feels the ancient boards whisper as she shifts her feet, planting them firmly with a final creak of the chair. The sound and that distantly felt thrum are the only clues to movement. The blade is a lynchpin fixing everything in place.

“Open your eyes,” she says.

“Fearless” in Best Lesbian Erotica of the Year, Vol. 3 from Cleis Press

With the apartment door locked behind them, they started undressing. Tessa tossed her hat onto the table by the door and wiggled out of her sundress, shrugging her shoulders through the straps that had left them bare and twisting her arms in movements which were unselfconsciously awkward. Jenny’s heart ached as she watched, as if it was constricted in a cage almost too small to let it beat. Then Tessa let the dress fall around her feet and stepped out of it.

A tan showed on the caps of her shoulders and her arms, and then a little less brightly on her neck and the tops of her breasts. Below that, everywhere she was normally covered, her skin looked cool, pale, both voluptuous and vulnerable. The surgery scars were fading.

Jenny took a step toward her only to realize she still wore shoes. She kicked her feet out of them, then pulled off jacket, tee, and jeans. Her stomach was cool with sweat, making the heat below even stronger. Her pulse beat between her legs as she approached Tessa.

When she was naked, Jenny always felt more powerful—paradoxically untouchable. It was almost as good as being transparent, like sunlit air, like water. She felt strong enough to say, “So… you want to do this?”

Smiling, Tessa reached for her.

“I know.” Blushing, she continued with her apology: “But…this? We could try another day.”

“I think we’ve waited long enough,” Tessa said. “I have.”

“Manifesto” in Cliterature’s Anthology issue

I don’t know where on the library shelves they keep the grown-up women’s versions of the stories I grew up reading. The mythology—Prometheus bound, Loki too, lots of heroic suffering and immobilization for that matter. Men sure take pride in their ability to withstand pain, and seem to have since the dawn of time. Maybe women have taken pleasure in the same for about as long. Oh, and the Hardy Boys! The moment I realized that every book would have at least one scene of them captured by the bad guys, tied up or imprisoned…

The Odyssey’s another great one. Our wily hero—let’s not forget all the paintings of him bound to a post before those Sirens—and his brave, if significantly dumber, crew keep getting waylaid, enslaved, befuddled, possessed by sorceresses and goddesses…

There’s a theory that the author of the Odyssey was a woman.

 “Like a Flash Flood” in Escape to Pleasure from Bold Strokes Books

 “Yes,” Kim said cheerfully. “I know what it looks like.” Rosa heard the smile in her voice as her girlfriend led the way in. “It’s called a slot canyon.”

Rosa was too dry and breathless to speak. She fell back a few steps to take it all in—yes, the two masses of rock, rusty peach and rose-brown whorls that looked almost soft in their undulating erosions, swept like the spread of full thighs, coming together, parted by only an intimate gap that led deep into the distance. The image had a certain crude yet sensual resemblance.

Also, in this position it framed a great view of Kim’s ass, the way it pressed her shorts as she strode right in.

 

“Not Quite an Antidote” in The Sexy Librarian’s Dirty 30, Vol. 3

“The traders who joined us after the rescue carried some surprising things,” Bela said.

“And yet I’m not entirely surprised.” He pulled her close again. “It’s a brilliant idea, Bela.”

She nipped his jaw. “You haven’t even heard my idea yet.”

“I hope I’ll get to watch you…” The words trailed off in a sigh as her kisses moved lower, eventually reaching the sweet spot where his neck joined his shoulder.

“That would be nice,” she whispered over his collarbone. “But you could participate, too.”

 “Guessing Game” in Erotic Teasers 

“I mean, it feels personal. I’m not sure if it is. Which is weird, right? Not that I don’t enjoy your company,” she added. “I like hanging out with guys. But women, too…”

Roland nodded. “Would you like to get a drink?”

“Sure.” Marisol smiled, but five minutes later she was frowning into her beer. “It’s just a guessing game, I guess.” A grimace at the echo. “But how did I get to be twenty-seven without knowing if I’m lesbian or straight?”

“There are other options,” Roland said.

She looked at him across the table. “Yeah. And it’s even more of a guessing game how people will react if you bring that up.”

“Well.” He tipped his glass toward her. “My boyfriend, my girlfriend, and I all fall on the continuum.”

Her eyes widened. Then her mouth did, showing teeth in a grin. “You have both?”

“They have me.” Maybe it was the beer, maybe it was the brightness of her smile and what it did to his heart jumping in his chest, but Roland decided to go all in. He pushed back his shirt sleeves and raised his wrists to show her.

 

Lastly, in 2018 Betina Cypher and I tried something a little different: a podcast! You can check out our 3 episodes of Smutty Storytelling here on iTunes, Player FM, and here on SoundCloud. 

2017 Year in Review

Not all New Year’s resolutions pan out, but this one did–in December 2016, I resolved to send out at least one story submission every month. That meant lots of tracking new calls, lots of brainstorming and nurturing of plot bunnies, and of course, lots of writing! But I feel like the work paid off: this was an excellent year, and I’m honored to have been included in anthologies from Mofo Pubs, SynCyr, and Cleis Press. Not to mention flash fiction on several websites and  in magazines. Many pieces are femdom f/m, of course, though publications this year also include f/f, m/m, and stories where gender and/or pairing aren’t categorized. Genre-wise, the majority of pieces are contemporary, literary, and about the “real world,” though there is also a ghost or two.

You can see a full list of my published fiction under my “Stories” tab.

“Soft, Rough” in the Wanderlust anthology 

Now she saw them in juxtaposition, as if the image from the mirror had carried over and overlaid what lay before her eyes. Not a single creature but two of them, very different in shape. He was made of curves—muscle and thickness, shoulders, ass, the thin but silken-soft layer of fat beneath the fine hair on his stomach, the roundness of his erection and balls. She was angular, from cheekbones to her small, sharp breasts.

Again she turned her head, looking in the mirror to confirm it. From this perspective, even her ears seemed to stick out in their usual way, points to break up the circle of her hair and head. She recognized herself. No startled moment of seeing a stranger, a ghost haunting the bed.

“Her Perfume” on Bright Desire, May 31

She squirms under me, moving until my mouth is over the curve of one breast, exactly where she wants it. But then I have to give chase in order to run my tongue around the aureole, to offer any focused attention. She’s not evading me—I know how much she likes to feel me lap and suck on her—it’s just hard for her to keep still. I find it flattering, the way the slightest brush of my lips or fingertips is enough to make her jump.

“My Body is a Haunted House” in the Hotel anthology

“Actually,” Cate said, “I wondered if we could ride together?”

Monica accepted with, she hoped, not too obvious eagerness. Or too obvious nerves. As they rode to the restaurant, Sara drowsed in the back seat, face turned to the distant clouds of smoke. Cate’s elegant hands curled over the leather-cushioned steering wheel. A faint pale stripe showed where the wedding ring had been.

“Deliver Us” in the Sacrilege anthology

Ryan might have made a mistake in telling her that his first awakening to bondage had come through some C-movie about an exorcism. Watching that lissome teenager writhe, strapped down on the table—just a kid himself, he’d known something was going on, something even beyond the desperate, weirdly poignant straining for salvation. Years later, he found out exactly what. And years after that, he confessed.

And now he was about to lose his immortal soul over it.

But God, Ann looked good in a Roman collar.

“Annunciation” in the Sacrilege anthology

When I was nineteen, just as I consciously acknowledged that I desired women, I happened to visit an art museum. Women adorned every wall—larger than life, in intricate miniature, clothed in historical costumes, clothed in drapes of fabric, clothed in flowers, clothed in nothing… I explored my response to each, coaxing forth desire like a shy creature from the corners of my being, unsure if it was rabid, ready to bite.

Young martyrs collapsed on desolate moors, riverbanks, arena sands, the gray stones of a Roman street. I stopped before one, her dark hair spread around her like a pool of ink or blood, her nakedness covered only by some haphazard snow. God had sent it to protect her modesty; the painter was less motivated.

Suddenly in imagination…the snow became a cushion, a bed.

“Fantasies” in the Getting It anthology

She released her mouth’s tension with a soft pop. “I think I’d mess up the statistics. The ones they quote on every side of the feminist debates. Or maybe lots of women feel the way I do but don’t know how to articulate it.”

“Yeah?” He responded to the thoughtful tone her voice took on. “How do you feel?”

She gently squeezed his neck, hinting that the question was impertinent. Or only unnecessary, since she wanted to tell him anyway.

“Silver Bracelets” in the Getting It anthology

She comes very near to telling him, I liked your present so much that I tried to eat it. Knowing he’d understand, he’d get the joke, and even the part of it that isn’t a joke. But she holds back.

…Her boyfriend’s given her a pair of handcuffs, but she’s afraid of coming on to him too strong.

“The Bodies of Ghosts” in the Haunted anthology and as a free standalone ebook. 

Yet my arousal didn’t feel perverse or completely unexpected. Grief excuses a lot of things. Probably because it drives a lot of things. It’s love without means of communication, helpless caring without anything to hope or fear for. It’s passion, it’s pain, it’s wanting without a chance of ever being satisfied. Without an outlet.

“Binding Him Between” as a free flash fiction on this blog

Colin glanced around them, and a corner of his mouth pulled in an achingly familiar way. “Not the most romantic place for a reunion.”

“I know.” Lucas joined in his laughter, almost giddy. “But the, um…the magic is bound to your physical…remains.”

“I see.” He raised his hands—each caught in a loop of shadow-soft cord, tied in turn to Lucas’s right wrist. He smirked. “Bound?”

“I can keep you as long as we’re joined like this. Or until sunrise, whichever comes first.”

“Well…” He stepped closer. “I think we can make the best of it.”

“The Depths of You” in The Erotic Review magazine (free to read)

Performance anxiety? Sure, some. But I’m good at what I do to you. I know it. I know just the depth, rhythm, angle to take you apart. Then to pull you back together, so you burst again. All the while driving into you towards my own pleasure, my own ascent and plummet into something dark, full, and for each moment, enough.

Somewhere in that helpless satisfaction is the thing that scares me so fucking much.”

“First Slap” in The Big Book of Submission, Volume 2

“Can I slap you?”

He was struck by how she asked the question. Clearly, but softly, revealing not shyness but a sort of respect for the request’s significance. It was the same way she had suggested their first kiss, resolving his private uncertainty over the nature of a conversation which had grown steadily warmer and more intimate. Then, in what seemed like a continuation of their exchange, the kisses went on, deepening until her lips turned red and his felt swollen and helpless but not numb, not exactly.

“Outnumbered” in Aotearotica, Volume 4

They’ve been going at it for almost an hour—just the two of them, one on one, but really, she’s got him outnumbered. The cuffs help.

He strains at them suddenly, so hard the bedposts groan. She chuckles. They’ll hold. He’d hold, too, even if in the moment he doesn’t realize it. She slows down, giving him more space to ask for anything he needs. If he isn’t too proud.

Silence. She goes back to what she’s doing, riding out his reaction. Under her he bucks, trembles, struggles. A body in tension and frantic release.

Plus a poem in Cliterature’s Birth Control issue to round the year out!

Year in Review 2016

I mean, yeah, the less said about this year the better. That was even reflected on the writing front–I completed and placed fewer stories than I wanted to. However, I was also thrilled to be included in the following publications (and to have participated in my first Femslash February, with results posted on AO3)!

“For Myself” on the Bright Desire website

I enter my bedroom, where southern sunlight filters through the white and blue striped curtains like a haze. Ignoring the light switch, I leave the space dim and cool as a cave. Currents of air conditioning lick my skin as I undress. Whisper over goose bumps and sweat-slickness. Exposed, I feel like my naked body gleams in the twilight, but I’m not sure it really does.

I’m not like the covers of the books that flank my top shelf, books I often turn to when I’m in a state like this, books which I love like old friends-with-benefits—books advertised by people who are faceless, voluptuously thin, with innie belly buttons and skin the shade of honey-and-cream. Well, in the end I’d prefer to have a face. I’m not as hairless as they are, either, and though I feel smooth and even sleek under my hands, that’s only from familiarity. Familiarity is enough; at times like this it gets me going even more than those well-thumbed pages.

“A Last Touch of Grace” published by Forbidden Fiction

“Maybe I am wrong,” Iphigenia said. “And if so, I’m sorry to trouble you. I don’t think I’m wrong, but I truly don’t want to—to make things worse for you. If I’m opening a wound that’s healed, tell me. If it’s not still raw and bleeding, then I know I ought to let it be.” A deep breath from her, while everything else around him was still silence. “Say it hurts you less than it hurts me, and I’ll go, Mattie.”

Behind his eyelids, wetness stung. He laughed at it. “Nobody’s called me by that name in a long time.”

“Breakfast Time” in Bust Magazine’s 100th issue

“Oh, that’s good,” she growls from deep in her throat, clutching his thighs, his hips. Keeping track of her hands is hard this close to orgasm. But when she can control her touch, she can control him. She spreads his cheeks enough to tease his hole, satisfied to leave him open and unfulfilled. She doesn’t need to penetrate him to fuck him.

“Before the Fast” with Circlet Halloween Microfiction

She came closer, and he didn’t retreat. Her nostrils flared. Her breath fell on his cheek, then her lips, skimming over his skin in something not quite a kiss.

He swallowed hard, and then turned his face in an attempt to catch her mouth. She gasped, pulling back. He caught the flare in her dark eyes as she seemed to change her mind. Her gloved hand grasped the back of his neck, holding him in place as she closed her lips over his. He moaned as she added her tongue. Then her teeth.

“The Bitterness of Flesh” in Ever Dream of Me 

An arm went around her waist—Rob’s, lithe and warm, an eager embrace she couldn’t help melting into. He reached for her hand and brought it to his lips for a kiss.

Only then did he follow Jillian’s gaze to the dresses from the back of the closet. He went still against her. From the corner of her eye, she saw his cheeks blush to match the russet highlights of his hair.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “Her clothes were supposed to be cleared out.”

Her body still sang with silk and scent.

“I don’t mind,” Jillian said. 

“Phone Call, 3 AM” in Best Women’s Erotica of the Year, Vol 2

You take on a posture sometimes that I can only think of as “ripe.” An erotic thought. I’m thinking it now, thinking you look ripe, even as I watch you shake your hair from your shoulders and sigh.