Call for Reviewers from Rachel Kramer Bussel re: The Big Book of Orgasms

Following is an announcement from Rachel Kramer Bussel, looking for reviewers for this upcoming anthology. It is my first print anthology and I’m very excited about it. If you’re interested, please contact her ASAP!

I wanted to let you know that I’m currently signing up Amazon reviewers for The Big Book of Orgasms, for print copies (US only) or Kindle editions – people should email me here at orgasmantho at gmail.com with either their U.S. mailing address for a hard copy with “Amazon” in the subject line or their email address for the Kindle edition with “Kindle” in the subject line. By doing so, they acknowledge they have an Amazon.com account they’ve made a purchase from before, and that they are willing to post their review within 6 weeks of receipt. All the details are in this blog post: http://www.lustylady.blogspot.com/2013/05/will-you-be-one-of-my-100-amazon.html and/or you can retweet this: https://twitter.com/BigBookofOrgasm/status/338806032723742720

If you follow @BigBookofOrgasm I will follow you back and will be posting more about it closer to the pub date. I’ll be accepting requests until I hit 100 copies.
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New Release: 3 Girls 1 Pole

It’s been way too long! Welp, that’s what happens when you work on 15 different things at the same time in order to avoid becoming bored with anything. So I’m very pleased to announce the release of my latest erotica short, 3 Girls 1 Pole. Yes, the title makes me laugh too — that’s why I named it that. 😉

It was inspired by several things: my own fantasies, my experiences both with pole dance fitness and my years as an exotic dancer, and even a bit from my own life. I won’t tell you which of the three women I identified most with, though. A girl’s gotta leave some mystery for her fans!

I was really happy to find this stock photo for my cover, too. 3 Girls 1 Pole is publishing live at Smashwords, Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, and Rainbow eBooks. Links will be updated as they go live. Please enjoy, and don’t forget to leave a review! It really does help the indie authors out very much! ❤

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Blurb:

Jayna and her partner Ava, a stripper and pole instructor, recently bought a house. They’ve just installed a pole so Ava can give lessons, and they invite their hot friend Emily over to break it in. What kinds of kinky fun have the lesbian couple dreamed up for their sexually frustrated BFF, and how will Emily react when she’s cornered and seduced by the two women she’s been crushing on for ages?

Sexually explicit content. All characters are 18+.

Excerpt:

“Your splits are perfect, Jayna,” I said, envious. “I wish I could do splits like you. I try and try, but they don’t seem to ever get much better. Hell, I’d be happy just to have a woman do splits for me.” I paused, considering. “Preferably on my face, though.”

Instead of the giggles I expected, Jayna’s face grew calculating. “Oh yeah? What would you do then?”
I could feel my face growing hot, but the wine made me bold. “What do you think? Eat her pussy like there’s no tomorrow. What the hell would you do?”

“I know what I’d do,” Ava said. “Dare you to prove it, right here, right now.” I could only stare at her, astonished. “I’m serious. Jay and I have been fantasizing about a threesome for a long time.” She paused, eyes gleaming. I couldn’t look away. “Maybe even about you, once or twice… So are you in or what?” I couldn’t make my voice work, and swallowed hard before finally nodding. Ava grinned wickedly and grabbed me around the waist. “Well then,” she whispered huskily into my ear. “I hope you have a lot of stamina, because we’re going to test this ‘like no tomorrow’ theory of yours.” I realized I’d been holding my breath, and a little high-pitched moan escaped me as I exhaled. “But it wouldn’t be right to dive into the main course without some appetizers first, huh?” She let me go and led me back to the couch where Jayna was sitting. “You’ve never come to the club with me, so I guess I’ll have to bring the club to you.”

I had never had a lapdance, of course, so I had no idea what to expect beyond what I’d gleaned from movies — so when she peeled off her top and shorts, leaving her in just a little silver g-string, I’m pretty sure my heart skipped a beat or three. Ava pushed me down onto the cushy sofa, and I found myself sitting practically on Jayna’s lap, though her thighs were parted to let my ass brush the crotch of her tiny shorts. I could feel the soft mounds of her breasts pressed against my shoulder blades, and the heat of her breath on the back of my neck. Her hands snaked around me, one pulling my knee wider open, and the other caressing the underside of my left breast.

***

P.S. In other news, the main Hollaback site gave my article a shoutout on their weekly update! Score!

Ear Porn: Dr. Susana Mayer and the Erotic Literary Salon

I keep meaning to attend this. I’ll get around to it; I’d love to do a live reading!

Sex with Timaree

In most cities, there are open mics where people can workshop their latest creations in front of a live audience, whether they be singer-songwriters or stand up comics.

But what if your art is penning sultry tales of people getting it on? Or what if you just want to chill in the unpretentious swank of an absinthe bar while  hearing lusty stories read by interesting strangers?

You’ll be delighted to learn that you’ve got options. For five years Dr. Susana Mayer haserotic literary salon  hosted the Erotic Literary Salon, an event she founded not knowing if anyone would have the chutzpah to stand up and let an audience into their private fantasies.

Well, spoiler alert, but they do. They love it. And so do the audiences. A mixture of talented regulars and curious newcomers come to the monthly gathering…. with zero judgment.

Dr. Mayer, who is also a sexologist and professional…

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I Might Have a Nice Ass, But You’re Still an Asshole.

This is an article I wrote for Hollaback Philly, a non-profit dedicated to ending street harassment. They’ve posted it on their blog, which I really hope you go and check out. Hollaback is in many other cities as well.

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I distinctly remember walking down the sidewalk with my friends at the age of thirteen, getting honks and lewd comments hurled at us. I repeat: WE WERE THIRTEEN. Imagining ourselves cool and grownup, we would give offending drivers the finger and gleefully yell “Perv!” as loud as we could. After the shock of the first time or two, I considered it old hat in the nonchalant way that kids who don’t know better have. Maybe it had happened to me earlier even than thirteen, because I developed very early — but if it did, it was too traumatizing for me to not block out of my memory.

I’m in my early thirties now, and not much in the way of street harassment has changed. I’ve heard everything from “Nice ass,” and “Show me your tits,” to the relatively milder “You’re looking good today,” and “Hey baby.” I’ve heard it all, and I don’t care what the words are, I hate them all. I no longer have the blase attitude of laughing and yelling back, because no matter what I do, I’ll be called a bitch, or maybe worse. I hate that I have to fear speaking up, fear threats of violent confrontation, fear for my safety for the grave crime of being a woman in public. “What, I give you a compliment and you don’t even look at me? Bitch.” “You act like I’m not here? Bitch.” “I was being nice. Bitch.” Bitch. Bitch. Bitch.

Street harassment is not about compliments. It’s certainly not about being nice. It’s about intimidation and dehumanization, about objectification and making the recipient feel powerless and scared while the perpetrator feels powerful and aggressive. It’s about keeping its targets firmly in a place of submission and fear, and perpetrators (in my personal experience, they have invariably been men, of all races) in a place of power.

I’m a survivor of abuse. It happened early and often up through my early to mid 20’s, and I’ve spent years coming to terms with it and learning that healing is a journey, not a destination. For me, part of being a survivor and not a victim, part of continually healing, is speaking up — of ensuring that through my words and actions that neither I nor others are silent victims ever again. But even this is a journey, not a destination. It’s exhausting at times, terrifying, daunting; but also exhilarating, empowering, and deeply fulfilling.

Street harassment almost always catches you unaware. I am usually biking, concentrating on navigating Philly traffic and deep in my own thoughts. “Nice ass,” along with a jeering face staring back at me from a car as they drive ahead of me, violently tears me out of the present and can take me all the way back to my abuse — despite the years of therapeutic work I’ve done for myself. It doesn’t matter whether a flashback lasts for seconds, minutes, hours — or even if I’d never been abused at all, and there was nothing to which to flash back. Street harassment makes my heart pound, makes my stomach churn, and it makes me absolutely seeing-red livid. It doesn’t matter whether I’m wearing a potato sack or a ball gown, or even, as in the case of Philly Naked Bike Ride, nothing at all. You have no right to talk to me like that. Harassment is illegal in the workplace, at school, at home — pretty much anywhere that’s indoors. So why is it that when we’re outside, it’s like the Wild West? It’s violent, it’s wrong, and it needs to stop.

I am deeply passionate about fighting injustice with my words, which, paired with my intelligence, are the mightiest weapons I possess. I use words to reclaim myself, to reclaim my body and my soul. I write romance, and I write erotica, and I love that I am able to make a living at it. I write other genres too, and plan to eventually publish those as well. I love my queer sexuality, and I love that I am free inside myself to be able to claim it without shame or self-reprisal. I love that I can use words and verbal images in any way I like to reclaim my soul from my broken past, and to create my own future.

Despite what the children’s chant says, words can hurt you — but it fails to mention that they can also heal you. That’s why the growing Hollaback movement is so damn brilliant. It fights words with words, voices with voices, and shows the silent ones that it’s okay to speak up, that they are not alone. It empowers the victimized and gives them a constructive outlet for their fear and rage. Hollaback is a brilliant concept, one that I hope will soon create positive change in policies, laws, and cultures.

Not all words are created equal, and we all know it. You have a voice. Use it for positive change.