VideoPost: What’s for Dinner? and other Compelling Information

Video shot in my back yard, no editing.

Hey, I really mean it:  send me questions to answer in my videos!  I’ve only received one question so far.

 

 

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Cracking Open

From my post to social media:

June 17, 2016

Sometimes I think I’ll just crack wide open from the weight of it all. All of it. The well of pain and grief that swallowed me whole this weekend. It’s heavy and exhausting. I feel tight from the pressure of holding it all together. I’m strung tight. I know this because of how quickly I snap, how quickly my anger flared all week. Over nothing. The driver who crowded me or the one that went too slow. The co-worker who asked questions (the audacity). I’m strung tight and prone to tears at a moments notice: music surging to crescendo, queer bodies dancing. the sudden beauty of laughter, the power behind the owl’s hoot in the darkening woods, the catch in my heart when I imagine my loves not coming home, ever again.
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There is so much for all of us to carry and the responsibility to witness and carry on and … to make things right. Somehow. It’s exhausting and heavy and even with the crushing blow of a mass murder we are determined to carry on. To get on with our queer lives. And even here, giving myself some care and acknowledgement, I have an inner voice that says “but you weren’t even there, you don’t know anyone, it didn’t happen to you, you should be over it by now, center the people who it happened to.” Yeah, that inner voice has a point and yet…
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No, I didn’t dodge bullets that night. I wasn’t waiting desperately for word about a loved one or friend in the hours and days after. And yet, I watched as the nation and world reacted. I saw the way politicians did what the usual “We’ll pray for you” out of one side of their mouths and “fuck you queers, we aren’t going to protect you legally, are you kidding?” out of the other. I saw the way the rest of the world went on like it was a normal Sunday. I heard the silence from too many. Maybe they didn’t know what to say, maybe they didn’t realize we needed to hear something. Maybe they were distracted by accusations of terrorism or mental illness. Or maybe, not being queer or trans, they really, really don’t have any idea how dangerous a poison internalize hatred is. We know, we’ve felt it, we’ve been bullied by it, murdered by it, killed ourselves because of it. But if you don’t know what that feels like, well, maybe it’s too hard to imagine.
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And all of this is very much what we’ve been hearing from people of color all along: the world is set up for people other than us. Straight people don’t get it because it’s not about them. And yeah, some do and thank you if you’re one of them. But too many people will just share some posts and click ‘like’ and feel good about themselves and then move on. In a few days or a week, there will be something else grabbing everyone’s attention and the stories about Pulse will be fewer and fewer. And next month, some new horrific thing will happen and the politicians will offer prayers and wring their hands and accept donations from the NRA. Business as usual.
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I feel like the weight of it will crack me open. The weight of the kind of change that has to happen to make a difference. The sheer grotesque inertia of Business As Usual. And yes, my POC friends have been saying this all along and even when I got it, I didn’t get it enough. I’m getting it now friends, and I feel desperately unqualified to derail the white male supremacy machine that is crushing us all. But that’s what we have to do.
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But not this moment. This moment I’m giving to self-care, to anticipating Pride gatherings and hugs from friends I only see once a year. I’m going to keep learning about the queer Latinx people we lost last weekend and watching charming funny videos of queer people. And being fiercely proud of queer and trans people for fighting back, again and again. And I will keep loving the people I can, while I can, because we never know when Business As Usual is going to take them from us.
‪#‎whoalongpost‬ ‪#‎loveforpulse‬ ‪#‎loveforqueertrans‬ ‪#‎loveforPOC‬

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Blog Tour for Order Up

Order Up Cover 525 x 800

Order Up, an anthology of lesbian romance and erotica, is on a blog tour involving editors and authors of the book, including myself.  My story, Daddy’s Hot Appetizer, is included in the ‘Dessert’ section of the menu, where the hottest stories await readers who clean their plates.

The editors, R.G Emanuelle and Andi Marquette, have asked us to tell the story behind the stories we wrote for the collection.  I started writing about a couple distractedly preparing for a dinner party while taking Rachel Kramer Bussel‘s class on erotic writing called Between the Sheets through Litreactor.  Though I’ve been writing erotica for almost 8 years now, I know there’s plenty I can learn from successful writers and editors, so I jumped at the chance to take a class from RKB – editor of many erotic fiction anthologies, a writer, speaker, educator and event organizer.  We worked through several homework assignments, one of which was to have food and food prep be a main theme in the piece.  That was my story’s birthplace, as a homework assignment.  In the final week, when we were to get one of our stories ready for submission, I chose the story I called ‘Sexing the Cook’, in part because Rachel had posted a link to the Order Up call for submissions in her feedback.

So how’d I come up with this story?  I was thinking about food, of course, and Red, also of course.  I was thinking about a dinner party we’d had with NeighborFemme and her boy.  And one thing led to another and I envisioned a themed dinner party and the prep time before and how there might be sexy times along with dinner prep.

My narrator is a lot like me and I modeled the character of Maureen after Red.  This is not an uncommon starting point for me in writing erotica – using known characters as a starting point.  From there I embellish and have fun with the story.  And I definitely had a lot of fun writing Daddy’s Little Appetizer. I knew it was pretty good because it turned me on to write it, and read it and reread it and edit it.  Each successive edit honed and refined the characters and the action.  I probably could have gone on and on, but eventually I had to let go of my baby and send her off to the editors.  When I did, I was pleasantly surprised that they accepted the story and found only a few additional edits to make – in large part because of the feedback I received in class and the editing tips received. Thanks again to Rachel and fellow classmates.

Here’s a juicy tidbit from the story to wet your appetite:

“Can you do the potatoes at the table?” she asked. “I don’t have much room in here.” She’d begun working on the dessert, pineapple upside-down cake. I took the cutting board, peeler and knife to the table and returned for the bag of potatoes, making sure to brush against her nipple with my elbow. A sharp intake of breath told me I’d gotten to her.

I pulled the garbage can over and began peeling. I barely avoided peeling my fingers a couple of times, since I was watching her more than I was watching what I was doing. Her boxers were large on her and had drooped down in the back, revealing a tantalizing bit of ass cleavage. My mouth watered as I remembered bending her over the night before and licking that very spot.

“Babe, I’m thirsty, do I still have some beers in the fridge?”

“Mm-hmm.” She remained focused on measuring the dry ingredients.

I got up and stepped past her to the fridge, reaching around the plate of deviled eggs to get a bottle from the back. As luck would have it, she was standing in front of the drawer with the bottle opener. I leaned lightly against her back and slid my arm around her waist, reaching for the drawer pull. She reacted by stiffening her spine and giving me a sharp glance.

“Just need something from the drawer, babe.” I responded with a grin.

She pulled away from the drawer, pressing into me with a sigh. I angled my hips up and she pushed her ass back. I momentarily forgot there was another reason to be there and enjoyed the feeling of her warmth against me, as I nuzzled her neck.

She reached into the drawer and handed me the opener over her shoulder. Brows drawn together in concentration, she cracked eggs into her bowl. I flipped the bottle cap off and took a sip, then put the bottle, lid, and opener on the counter behind me. I leaned lightly against her back and watched over her shoulder as she folded more ingredients into the batter. She turned and threatened me with a spatula covered in goo. I kissed her neck, picked up my beer and returned to my task.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The rules for submission were pretty straight forward – the story needed to have food as a central theme, not just a backdrop and the story had to be about romance and/or erotica involving lesbian characters.  No sweat, right?  Well, actually, I was a bit challenged by the first rule.  It was easy to envision a sexy scene involving food prep, I’ve been in sexy scenes in the kitchen before.  However, I didn’t just want the food to be somewhere vaguely in the area of the two characters.  I wanted the menu to be real, the steps and timing in preparation to be accurate.  I wanted the reader to be able to imagine the dinner on the table, the setting and music and characters to come alive.  Speaking of which, I could have spent a little more time on the table setting perhaps… noting for next time.

I love eating and I love preparing food with friends and loved-ones.  Some of my favorite memories are set in kitchens and around tables laden with food and surrounded by the smiling faces of people I love.  ’Food is love’ as we say in my family and sharing food is an excellent way to show you care and to nurture relationships.  Preparing food with a partner or lover can be an interesting experience.  I’ve heard that going on a rode trip can be a great indicator of how well a relationship will prosper.  I think preparing food with someone can also reveal a lot about communication styles, ability to collaborate and views on food.  For me preparing, sharing and consuming food are central themes in my relationships and funneling that into an erotic story felt natural.

Though I’ve had a couple of stories published before, this anthology is the first large market book I’ve landed in, which is pretty exciting. Also exciting is getting paid by a publisher for my work – also a first.  Order Up is a very tasty, multi-course meal of sexiness and I hope you’ll add it to your erotic library.

To get your copy of Order Up, go to one of these sites:

Ylva (the publisher’s site)
Amazon US
Amazon UK
Amazon Australia
Amazon Germany
Nook
Smashwords

Collect them all… 

Here’s the full blog tour schedule (go back and check the previous ones if you missed them). Yesterday the tour stopped for a post from Cheri Crystal, blogging at Andi Marquette’s site. Next up is Liz McMullen, blogging at her site tomorrow (6/15).  Read the whole series for the inside scoop on each story.

June 6: Andi Marquette, blogging at her site (The Situation Room).
June 7: Jove Belle, blogging at her site.
June 8: Cheyenne Blue, blogging at her site.
June 9: Brey Willows, blogging at her site.
June 10: Lea Daley, blogging at R.G. Emanuelle’s site.

June 13: Cheri Crystal, blogging at Andi Marquette’s site.
June 14: ME!, blogging at Butchtastic.net.
June 15: Liz McMullen, blogging at her site.
June 16: Marie Sterling, blogging at R.G. Emanuelle‘s site.
June 17: Rebekah Weatherspoon, blogging at her site.

June 20: Jaye Markham, blogging at Andi Marquette‘s site.
June 21: Emma Weimann, at Andi Marquette‘s site
June 22: N.R. Dunham, blogging at her site.
June 23: Pascal Scott, at R.G. Emanuelle‘s site.
June 24: R.G. Emanuelle, blogging at her site.

 

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Reading Tonight at Creative Colloquy

For any locals who are interested, I’ll be reading an original story tonight at Creative Colloquy at Traditions in Olympia.  The event starts at 7 with featured readers; I’ll be reading during the second part, open mic.

FYI: this is not an erotic reading event, the story I’m writing is a little spicy but not erotic.

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Me and My Boi: Queer Erotic Stories Available for Pre-order

me and my boi second coverMe and My Boi, edited by Sacchi Green, is available for pre-order at Amazon.  This book features stories by Sinclair Sexsmith, Victoria Oldham, Tamsin Flowers and others, including me.  My story ‘What I’m Made Of’ was written about three years ago and has been a part of this collection for over two – and finally is getting it’s moment to shine.

I believe these will be available for sale on June 14th or so.  Pre-order and have it sent to your home.

I’m really excited to see this book in print and even more to find it on bookstore shelves… and maybe on yours! If you buy a copy of this book, please email me a selfie of you and the book or the book on your shelf or wherever you keep your hot and sexy books.

This is so exciting!

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Learning to Say ‘No’

I have once again come to a place where I realize that I’m trying to do too much.  I’m over committing myself in excess of my resources of time and energy.  I’m fucking exhausted many days, mostly work days.  I’m trying to do all the things at 100% capacity and that’s not possible.  Not even if I want to really bad.

In thinking about this, and in conversations with loved ones and friends over the past weeks and months, some things have become more visible in the mud of my too-busy life:

1) I hate to disappoint people.  I will do my utmost to fulfill any obligations I have committed to, even in situations that are toxic and the other people in the vicinity are not living up to theirs. I sometimes take this to extremes and work past my limits and deplete my reserves in order to make sure things happen to the best of my ability.  This means I’m great to have on teams.  It also means I run out of energy often and that’s not awesome if you’re my loved one and you depend on me being able to cope with normal life.  What happens if I disappoint someone?  I feel like shit and a gaping hole opens up inside me and I fall in and can’t see light for some period of time.  That gaping hole was created when I was a kid at home living with a parent with undiagnosed mental issues.  I guess today we’d say she was neuroatypical.  So no, the world doesn’t end and disappointment doesn’t always cause someone to leave me and my life to turn into shit, but I have a hard time pulling out of that dive because the path is so well worn.

2) I want to be someone who can be depended on.  This doesn’t have to be an extreme sport, but I tend to make it that way.  Besides, I’m a creature of habit.  I like to find a groove and stick with it.  That’s awesome when it works and rough when I’ve built up an expectation with myself and/or someone else and then I have to fail that expectation because something comes up.  And unexpected shit is always coming up. This one is definitely related to number 1.  Being dependable was cause for praise when I was growing up.  Being a disappointment was one of the worst things I could do – and easy because the standards were so exacting and strict.

3) I tend to be conflict avoiding in my personal relationships.  I used to criticize my sister for this, but I’m not much better.  I think this is another artifact of my childhood that has been reinforced through the years.  I am quicker to give-in and compromise to keep the peace than I am to push and hold my boundaries.  That said, I have much improved in this area over the years.  It still comes up and gets in my way too much, though.

4) I’m not getting enough time to myself. I remember during one round of couples therapy my wife and I did that we created a list of the things we’d love to do if there was nothing to stop us – no obligations, no schedules, no one waiting for us to get done, etc.  My list was almost entirely solitary activities – reading a book, writing, working in the garden, going for a bike ride, watching the clouds, etc.  I do have the capacity to get lonely, but it takes a while.  I think it might take an entire day of not seeing anyone to get me to the point where I really need human companionship, or at least to be somewhere other people are.  Because of my problem with over committing and feeling responsible for doing all the things, I do not make enough time for myself.  This lack of self-care causes increased anxiety, increases memory problems, reduces my creativity, increases depression and dis-ease in my mind and body.

5) Apparently I should go back to therapy with this list.

6) Doing all the things.  For large chunks of my life, I felt like I could do anything I set my mind to. That I was smart enough, clever enough and capable enough that if I just put the time and effort in, I could learn how to do anything.  I know, towering ego, eh?  Well, parts of this have stuck even though I realized as I grew through life that there are somethings that I am organically not as inclined to be successful at.  Like high jumping or watchmaking or being a lawyer.  The parts of this thinking that stuck are related to the idea that if I set my mind to something, stick with it, push myself to the limit if necessary – I can do the thing.  I can do the thing and be a great team member and people will like me and want me to be involved.  Which of course fuels the over commitment thing.  But, hey, all these things are related.

7) I am really bad at saying ‘no’.  This is related to some of the above.  I want to be the kind of person who helps, who is dependable and doesn’t disappoint.  I don’t like saying ‘no’ to reasonable requests, it makes me feel like shit.  And by reasonable, I mean reasonable from the context of the person who is asking.  And if the request is reasonable, but I’m feeling that twinge in my gut that says ‘no’, I feel like I need to have a good justification for saying it.  And I am not always down with the idea that ‘because I need down time by myself’ or ‘that scheduling requires some heroics and I don’t have the energy today’ or …. are valid reasons.  I almost said ‘excuses’.  Reasons, I can have reasons and they can be reasonable reasons and not excuses.  But I don’t always get there.  I say ‘yes’ because going back to number 6, I really think I can do all the things, until I can’t.  Which sometimes looks like me dragging my zombie self through the day or getting sick.  I need to learn how to say ‘no’ without feeling guilty and feeling shitty about it.

I’m not currently seeing my therapist, and this is not a substitute for therapy and it still feels good to confess these things.  Onward.  Work sucks and my heroics are not enough to win the game much anymore.  Multiple concurrent relationships are complicated already and made more so by all the things we each bring to them.  I’m trying my best and not always succeeding the way I want to.  I’m working hard not to see that as failure.  And I’m committed to learning to say ‘no’ enough to keep myself out of this place of overwhelm and underhealth.  I basically feel like I’m juggling 10 balls or maybe plates, maybe both… doing that while keeping myself from falling into a chasm by holding on to the edges with my finger and toenails.  Granted, not every day or every moment feels that way, but enough do that I know I’ve reached the rupture point.

*inspiration for this post comes from Red, who encouraged me to start saying ‘no’ and helped me by leading me through an exercise yesterday evening during our date.  Thank you, love.  I’m working on it.

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Work in Progress….

Something I’m working on…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jordan walked in and plopped herself down on my couch like she owned the place.  Technically she did, she was my landlord, but I still glared at her until she pulled her dirty sneakered feet off my couch cushions.

“Why won’t you just date me?  I’m telling you, that would be the solution to all your problems.”

I’d spent an hour talking to her on the phone about my dating dilemmas and she’d finally announced that she was on her way.  Ten minutes later she came through the door with her grin and her leather jacket and a six pack of beer. And the solution to my problem, not that I hadn’t heard it before.

“I’m not going to date you, Jordan, we’ve been over this.”

“I know, you’re not sure what you want yet and you don’t want to risk our friendship and I’m your landlord, blah blah blah.  Doesn’t mean we couldn’t have some fun while you look for your next Mrs. Right, Or Mister.” Jordan winked lewdly and grabbed my phone. “Let’s see who you’ve got here.”

I lunged for it, managing to knock over the coffee table, and her beer bottle, and landing heavily on top of her.  She was partway on her side and I ended up straddling her hip.

Giving me a sideways look, she said, “You sure this is how you want to do it?  Might be better if I roll over on my back…”

I gave her a dirty look and got up.

“Or my stomach, if that’s what you’re hoping for.” She rolled over and pumped her butt up and down in what I guess was an invitation.

I flopped back down in my recliner. “Dammit, Jordan, you’re not helping.”

“Because you won’t let me.” She took note of my expression and exhaled. “Okay, I’ll stop trying to seduce you for a moment. Let’s talk about the latest one, WideMouth, right?”

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Order Up, Lesbian Erotica Anthology Now Available

“Order Up: A Menu of Lesbian Romance and Erotica” is now available in eBook and paperback.

Amazon, paperback, $14.99.

Ylva Publishing, eBook, $7.99

There is a full menu of tantalizing stories including mine, Daddy’s Hot Appetizer:

Join Chef R.G. Emanuelle and sous chef Andi Marquette as they return to the kitchen to cook up another menu in their continuing quest to explore the sensuous qualities of food and illustrate how the act of preparing and eating it can engage much more than simply taste and smell. Food can become many things, from a gateway to greater intimacy to the creation or rediscovery of a connection. To help them in their quest, Andi and R.G. rounded up another group of cooks who created an array of dishes and meals, which they present to you here in a menu that ranges from sweet and romantic to sultry and seductive, from a relationship’s first tentative taste to the many layers of one that has simmered long and slow.

Order Up Cover 525 x 800Each story also ends with a recipe. Some require cooking implements while others are whimsical accompaniments that don’t require cooking at all—at least not in the traditional sense. After all, food serves as more than sustenance—it’s a trigger for love, laughter, sex, pleasure, and carnal and sensory satisfaction. Whatever your palate prefers, you’re sure to find something tasty here.

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Rough cuts: The First Time

From my pile of unpublished stories, something light and fun to start the weekend.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As many times as I have fallen in love and lust, nothing matches the first time. The contradictory combination of confusion, clarity, animal lust and puppy love with liberal doses of straight up fear were intoxicating. I remember thinking I didn’t have any idea how to have sex, and being astonished when my body knew exactly what it was doing.

I was a junior in high school and  I’d gone out with a couple of guys but the experiences weren’t exciting enough to ask for seconds. The idea of dating a girl wasn’t even on my radar yet.

The first time we met was after a basketball game. I was playing JV girls basketball and she was in the stands not far up from our bench. During a time-out, I glanced up to see her staring right at me. She had honey-gold hair, light colored eyes and dimples. We caught eyes for a moment before she blushed and dropped her gaze. I didn’t have time to ponder what it meant before I was out on the court again.

After the game one of my teammates stopped me on my way to my truck and pointed to a small group standing near her car. The girl with the dimples was with them.

“Casey, come over and meet my friends.”

Jo introduced me to the five of them but the only name that stuck in my head at the time was ‘Keri’. Up close I could see that her eyes were blue and she was wearing a light-colored sweater under a denim jacket. I had a sudden desire to reach under her jacket and feel her body through her sweater. I felt my face flush and I stammered through the next couple of moments of conversation, hoping like hell she couldn’t read my mind.

They were all heading to a nearby drive in and Jo asked me to join them. I was going to decline, feeling flustered and nervous and confused by my thoughts about Keri. I started to pull away, moving toward my car.

“Oh come on, come with us, you don’t want to go home yet, do you?” Keri had taken a couple of steps toward me and behind her, Jo grinned and winked at me. I ignored Jo and looked at Keri. Truth was I couldn’t look away, her sunny sky blue eyes had me pinned, and she was biting her lip, “Please?”

I felt something like butterflies the size of eagles in my belly as I stammered “yes” however, I couldn’t seem to move. I stood there and watched as Jo’s crew piled into her car, all except for Keri who lingered next to the open door.

“You coming or not, Ker?” Jo’s voice carried laughter and innuendo like a freight train. “Or would you rather come with Casey?”

Laughter erupted from inside the car and Keri rolled her eyes for my benefit.

“Come on, Keri” I said. “You can ride with me.”

At the drive-in, we both got shakes and I pulled into a parking slot next to Jo. The group was sitting at a picnic table and we joined them. As we walked up, one of the other girls got up to sit on the other side, leaving a two person space on the bench. We sat down and Jo tapped my shin with her toe and raised her eyebrows at me when I looked up. I gave her the “What?” look. I was getting irritated that she seemed to know more of what was going on than I did.

The irritation quickly fled as my leg registered the warmth of Keri’s thigh against mine. The conversation swirled around us, but she seemed content to focus on her milkshake and me. After a while, Jo and crew got up to leave but Keri didn’t budge.

I looked at her, eyebrows raised.

“Casey, would you mind giving me a ride home?” she said after a moment.

I glanced at Jo, who winked at me and grinned for what felt like the billionth time. They were all grinning at us and I felt myself blush, yet again.

“Yes, Keri, I’d love to give you a ride home.”

We got in my truck again and I asked Keri where she lived. She told me and then said, “But I’m not ready to go home yet. Can we go over to the river park first?”

As I said before, my body always seemed a step or two ahead of me. While my brain was attempting to wrap itself around all of this, my body had started the adrenaline drip and the area between my legs was starting to feel warm and tense. As I pulled into a spot overlooking the river, Keri moved toward me on the bench seat, putting her hand on my thigh.

I looked at her, stuck squarely between wanting to touch her in return and being afraid to move lest I scare her off.

Luckily, she knew what she was doing, “I’ve been bugging Jo to introduce us for a several weeks now. I think she didn’t want to because she could tell I had a crush on you and she’s been trying to get me to go out with her.”  Her hand felt like a warm ember on my thigh and her eyes wouldn’t let mine go. “I’m really glad she finally got over herself. It helps that she has a girlfriend now, I suppose.”

I sat in a stunned silence, color rising on my cheeks once again. The words ‘crush’ and ‘girlfriend’ were echoing in my head as I struggled to make sense of what she was saying. “So you and Jo and the others are….?”

“Lesbians, yes. Wait…” She laughed nervously, removed her hand and pulled away slightly. “Jo said you were, too.”

“No, I mean, I don’t know, I hadn’t thought about it before now, maybe?” I was babbling and there didn’t seem to be anything I could do to stop it. The eagles in my belly were circling violently, while the area between my legs had turned into a tropical swamp. My body was in an uproar and so was my mind. I looked at her desperately, not sure how to tell her what was going through my mind and hoping she’d touch me again, “Probably? I mean, your hand felt nice and I don’t want you to feel weird about it and I, uh…”

She got closer again and put her finger across my lips, silencing me. “Here’s the truth, I like you and I don’t feel weird about it. And if you’re open to it, I’d like to show you how much I like you.”

I didn’t think it was possible for my cheeks to get redder, but based on the flood of heat in them at that moment, I must have been at fire engine red. I didn’t seem to be able to speak so I nodded in agreement.

She kissed me softly at first and as soon as her lips touched mine it felt like I was nothing but a pair of lips and a throbbing cunt. Her hands started exploring my body and I sighed heavily at the intense feeling of electricity and heat she left everywhere she touched. I reached an arm around her shoulder and the other hand went up her leg until it was in the crease between her thigh and hip bone. I’d made out with a couple of guys before and it was nothing like this. Instead of the awkward and fumbling experience I’d had before, it felt right to hold her against my body, her mouth tasted good and the feeling between my legs was so intense I thought I would come just from kissing her.

In the midst of making out, we’d adjusted our positions and she was sitting half on my lap when she took my hand and slipped it under her skirt, pressing it between her legs. “Can you feel how hot I am for you?  I am soaking wet just from making out with you.”

I pressed my fingers against the dampness of her panties and she groaned in my ear, hips bucking. “Oh, god, yes, please, touch me, don’t stop.”

I’d never been with a girl intimately but I’d spent a lot of time touching myself, I knew what felt good for me and without overthinking it, that’s what I did for her. I started stroking and pressing against her clit, feeling her lips part for me. I slipped my fingers under the elastic and felt her wetness directly. Her mouth was hungry against mine, pulling on my tongue and sucking hard on it as she pressed herself against me.

She pulled away from my mouth briefly, “Please, inside me, please I need it, I need you.”

Thank goodness my head didn’t get in the way at that moment because again, my hands seemed to know just what to do. First one finger and then another found their way inside her and she leaned back against the door. She was wet and warm and squeezing my fingers and moaning and I was in heaven. All I wanted to do was stay inside her and have her keep making those noises. It was as if a combination had finally clicked into place in my head, I felt like this was something I had been born to do.

I’m always amused at how I can have so many voices in my head at moments like these. There was a part of me sitting in dumbfounded shock that I was fucking a girl in my truck not even a couple of hours after I’d met her. There was another equally shocked part who kept saying “She’s so cute and she likes me? She wants me to touch her?” over and over again. There were other voices, too, barely audible who were sending up warning flares and cautions. The only voice I was really focused on was hers.

“Oh my god, yes, oh god, that’s soo good, please yes, more more more, pleeeeease!” Her head was thrown back and I leaned forward to kiss her neck. My hand was starting to cramp but I wasn’t about to stop, I just wanted the moment to last. She convulsed and grew louder until her voice was a shrill shout and then she relaxed, though her cunt kept its grip on my fingers. Her head came up and she looked at me with wide eyes, glancing around as if she’d forgotten where we were. Truth is, I’d kind of forgotten too, and suddenly realized how exposed we were to people passing by on the street. As if to emphasize that point, headlights suddenly illuminated the cab as a car approached..

I pulled out quickly and sat back in my seat, breathing hard and watching as they drove by, not even slowing down. She laughed, a high, giddy laugh that sounded like it bubbled up from deep inside her. Her smile was huge and she pulled me toward her again.

“Kiss me, hot stuff.”

This kiss was slower, deeper and more intense. I jolted when I felt her hand between my legs. She rubbed against the seam of my jeans and I moaned into her mouth. My hips were on automatic, and I felt my orgasm rising quickly. As I came, I made sounds I had never heard come out of my mouth before; howling and keening into the night. The rest of the world receded again until there was nothing except that point where her fingers pressed against me.

I collapsed against her and she wrapped her arms around me, stroking my back.

“Baby, do you want more?  I’d love to get into your pants”  Her voice purred in my ear as I caught my breath.

I sat up and looked around, once again aware of our surroundings and the potential for discovery.

I looked at my watch and yelped.

She turned my wrist toward her and said, “Oh wow, yes, it is late isn’t it?  Are you going to get into trouble?”

I bit my lip and started the truck. “Maybe, but I can probably talk my way out of it. I’ll just tell them I was hanging out with friends after the game and time got away from me.”

“Not far from the truth, is it?” She was grinning widely, arm around my shoulder, playing with my hair. She reminded me where she lived and I pointed the truck in that direction. Once we were stopped in front of her house, she faced me with a serious look on her face.

“I know all of this is new and you weren’t expecting it. Are you OK?”

I took a moment and a deep breath. I was already looking forward to seeing her again, and doing all of that again, a lot. As much as possible, in fact.

“I’m more than OK. You’re right, I had no idea that any of this was going to happen tonight, but I am so glad it did. I didn’t know that I wanted this until you touched me. I’ve been trying to date boys but it never worked. I just figured it was my fault.”

“Not your fault, sexy, you were just meant for something different. And damn, are you good at it.”

That made me blush again and I ducked my head, overcome with shyness. She lifted my face and looked into my eyes. “I like you and I’d like to see you again, a lot more actually.”

It was a kissing moment, I could feel it but I was nervous, sitting in front of her parent’s house. She seemed to read my mind. “Don’t worry, they’re still out on their dinner date.”

This time I pulled her lips to mine and kissed her. Her soft, sweet lips were hard to pull away from, but I had to get home and deal with my parents.

“I definitely want to see you again, too”  I bit my lip, feeling certain what I was going to ask next was way too forward and and also that I couldn’t let it go unsaid. “Are you.. would you like to be my girlfriend?”

My heart was pounding somewhere near my Adam’s apple as I watched her face for signs of what her answer would be.

“Well, you really are OK with all of this, aren’t  you?”  she said after a long pause. “We hardly know each other and this seems way too soon, but yes, yes you sexy butch, I do want to be your girlfriend.”

She gave me a quick kiss and got out of my truck. “See you tomorrow, baby.”

I watched her walk to the door, returned her wave and sat for a long moment after she closed the door behind her. I sat there until I saw an upstairs light go on. Then I left, worried someone would call the cops if I sat like a stalker in front of her house for too long.

My folks were pissed but I convinced them not to ground me. I barely slept that night, fingering myself and remembering her hands and her mouth and the way her body felt. I exhausted myself masturbating and fell asleep with one hand between my legs.

When I woke up the next morning, the first thought was of her and my next thought was….

“Holy, shit, I have a girlfriend!”  and then, “What’s a butch?”

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eLust #82, featuring Puppy Love…

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Photo courtesy of Teachers Have Sex

Welcome to Elust #82 -

The only place where the smartest and hottest sex bloggers are featured under one roof every month. Whether you’re looking for sex journalism, erotic writing, relationship advice or kinky discussions it’ll be here at Elust. Want to be included in Elust #83 Start with the rules, come back June 1st to submit something and subscribe to the RSS feed for updates!

 

~ This Month’s Top Three Posts ~

Take Me

How Do I Love Thee:On Comparing Relationships

Asking all the questions…

 

 

~ Featured Post (Molly’s Picks) ~

Erotic Fiction: Fishnet Queen

I Manage My Expectations

~Readers Choice from Sexbytes ~

*You really should consider adding your popular posts here too*

Wanna Have Sex With Me? – Here’s how
All blogs that have a submission in this edition must re-post this digest from tip-to-toe on their blogs within 7 days. Re-posting the photo is optional and the use of the “read more…” tag is allowable after this point. Thank you, and enjoy!

 

Sex News, Opinion, Interviews, Politics & Humor

Maybe I’m not a pervert after all
Bad Excuses
Engaging with Sexuality: A Personal Perspecti
I wish there were more porn
Cock Size: Does it matter?
Blue is not a “boy color.”

Erotic Non-Fiction

Watching My Wife With Another Man Story
Afternoon Cunnilingus & Birthday Sofa Sex
Why You Should Shave Your Partner
Oct 2014 Session – Mistress Claire
Two Days Later
Roping a cougarling
Divining Rods
Dorabella’s pink-velvet spanner

Erotic Fiction

Puppy Love
Quick & Dirty
She Says My Voice Changes for Her
THE BLINDFOLD – fear of the unknown
U is for undress…
Stay Baby…Stay.
kink of the week–glasses

Thoughts & Advice on Sex & Relationships

Slutfest Reflection
Love and Fairness
Winnowing
V is for……..
My heart turns blacker: the new rules

 

Thoughts & Advice on Kink & Fetish

Blast from the Fetish Video Past
The whole person approach to Submission
Down on my knees
Dominant Doppelgangers, Dominant Opposites
Four eyes
BDSM and Depression: Therapy or Self-Harm?

Poetry

Eden, Revisited: A Lusty Limerick

Writing About Writing

Stepping Stones
Centering Disabled Characters in My Erotica

 

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