Author Archives: Jade A. Waters

“Will You Be the Lucky One?” – Interviewed on the KMQ’s!

Posted on by

Hi everyone!

Cover of Libidinous ZombieA couple weeks ago, the wonderful Rose Caraway released her dream project, Libidinous Zombie, out into the world. As I mentioned in my post on the book, this anthology is a tremendous one, both for its roster of talent (editor included!), and for its exploration of the erotic horror convention. I am still so grateful Rose invited me to join the project, and then that she and the awesome Big Daddy were so excited about my contribution, “The Lucky One.”

As if all that wasn’t enough of a thrill ride, Rose invited me to join The Sexy Librarian’s Podcast today. She’s interviewing all the authors in this book, and I’m delighted to have gotten to share more of the backstory for “The Lucky One” in the process. In the interview, Rose asked me a little about my new book deal and karaoke antics, so, if you’d like to find out more, please hop on over and check out the interview right here.

If you haven’t already started listening to The Sexy Librarian Podcast, or Rose’s main podcast, The Kiss Me Quick’s, be sure to check them out! I have no doubt you’ll enjoy every word.

Thank you so much for listening!

XX,
Jade

N.B. You can also catch my last interview with Rose about my contribution to The Sexy Librarian’s Dirty 30 right here, or listen to my stories, “The Doll” and “Soundscapes,” as featured on The Kiss Me Quick’s Podcast. All podcasts are free for your ears! 🙂

List of Authors

Dirty Dates Book Birthday Logo

“The Swap” Is Part of Dirty Dates — Out Today!

Posted on by

For most of my life, I’ve been one for the experience. Be it riding terrifying rollercoasters, practicing aerial acrobatics, going bungee jumping, working Renaissance Faire, or even just having sex in the snow on the side of a ski run, I love finding all sorts of adventures and giving them a whirl. Rose Caraway pretty much nailed it after interviewing me over at the KMQ’s a few months back: I’m the type of gal who loves to try most everything—because it seems to me that if you’ve never tried it, you never really know what you like.

That’s why I’m slightly blushing to tell you about “The Swap,” out now in Rachel Kramer Bussel’s Dirty Dates: Erotic Fantasies for Couples. Today is the book’s official release day—and also Ms. Bussel’s birthday—so to celebrate both, I’m sharing some backstory…and “The Swap” happens to have an adventurous, real life backstory. The piece is an older one the wonderful Ms. Bussel picked for the anthology, and while I can say wholeheartedly that this tale is a work of fiction, it’s also one of the more reality based stories I’ve ever released into the world.Dirty Dates Book Birthday Logo

So let’s start with the story itself…“The Swap” is about a young woman named Serena, whose boyfriend Alex almost always plays the dom when they’re together. But for kicks, Serena’s requested that her boyfriend let her try putting him in the submissive role for a change—and once he says yes, she takes her adventure quite seriously. Serena goes all out in preparation for this event, because she wants to fully appreciate not only the part she’s playing, but everything it entails—which for her involves a specific dress, a vibrator, cuffs, eyelet screws, carabiners, a hell of a lot of chain, and a few holes drilled into the walls. And let’s just say, the two of them end up having a very good time with her ingenuity.

All right, so now you’re probably wondering—what’s the real life adventure behind this?

Here’s a hint: a scene involving five of the six items on Serena’s shopping list. 😉

I reiterate, this story is a work of fiction. My experience played out much, much differently than Serena and Alex’s (which is to say it didn’t really get off the ground), and unfortunately, it also didn’t turn out so well (not all people are as open to adventure as me, okay?). Nonetheless, some fifteen or so years later, I still keenly remember the fun in planning it out, including taking measurements of my room and roaming the aisles of the hardware shop for everything I could possibly need. So when I sat down to write “The Swap,” I wanted to twist the events for a couple who thrived on the same philosophy I have: try everything at least once, or you’ll never really know whether you like it.

Turns out, Serena and Alex really liked it.

Okay—time for an excerpt!

From “The Swap”:

“Glad you’re home, honey,” she said.

Alex set his bag on their drop table and gave her a quick look over. She was still in her own work clothes, and he pinched his eyebrows together in confusion. “I half expected you to be in some sort of getup when I got here,” he said.

“Oh, I’m not done.” She walked over to him. As usual, he wrapped his arms around her for a big kiss. And, also as usual, the way he twirled his tongue with hers sent tingles across her arms and made her instantly eager to strip down and comply with his every whim.

But not as usual, Serena squeezed his hip and pulled away.

“Assuming you’re still okay with the plan,” she said, winking, “I would suggest you take off your clothes.”

Alex chuckled. “Here?”

“Yes, here,” she said. She never giggled at Alex’s requests—at least, not since they’d grown more serious about this whole kinky bondage game they loved to play—and she expected the same right back. “My turn. My rules.” She bit her lip, enjoying the harsh tone she used to command him and the way he started the tiniest amount as she did it. “Now,” she snapped.

Alex unbuttoned his shirt. When he tugged it from his chest and dropped his trousers to the floor, Serena nodded in approval. The bulge in his boxer briefs told her he liked the game, so she stepped close enough for her chest to almost touch his and tilted her lips up toward his face.

“If you kiss me, I’ll touch you,” she said. It was one of his famous lines, and she delivered it with the same punch of temptation he did when he had her bound and whimpering beneath him.

Alex kissed her hard, and Serena cupped his dick through his underwear. He groaned against her mouth, then shifted his hips so he could rub more closely against her palm.

“Nope,” she said, yanking her hand away. “That’s not what I said. Now I guess I’ll have to tie you down.”

Alex’s expression told her everything she wanted to know—how curious he was, how aroused he felt, and how surprised he was at the way she’d already flipped their roles around. She rubbed the thick wedge of his cock through the fabric again and he lurched in her hand.

“Jesus, I want you,” he moaned.

“Soon. Here’s what I want you to do, Alex.” She leaned up to his ear, her heart racing as she ordered him around. This was so different, so much fun—never mind exciting, since her panties were already drenched with the images of what she had planned. “You’re going to take off your underwear and close your eyes. I’m going to blindfold you and take you to the bedroom. Are you okay with this so far?”

Alex was good about asking her if she was all right with each stage of their bondage games, and she wanted him just as comfortable. So when he nodded and closed his eyes, she grabbed the blindfold she’d left on the coffee table and returned to find him rock hard. Serena gave a quiet gasp at the sight—Alex naked was always a treat, and here he was: submissive, eyes closed, and ready for her to play with—but she shook it off. She would have her way with him soon enough.

“Good boy,” she said, reaching up to blindfold him. She made sure to accidentally rub her hips against his crotch as she tied the fabric over his face, which sent the heat right between her legs. Serena reminded herself that as much as she wanted to bend over and have him fuck her right here in the living room, she had to carry out her plan. It was her one chance.

She took his wrists. “Follow me.”

“Yes ma’am.” Alex let her guide him around the corner and down the hall, and Serena enjoyed the rush of control. They got all the way to the bedroom where she made him stand in the middle of the carpet, then she wrapped the cuffs around his ankles and wrists, snugging the buckles against his skin.

“How are you?” she asked. She grinned at her boyfriend wearing nothing but cuffs. She’d been like this for him so many times, but this reversal was giving her chills.

“I’m good so far,” he said, shaking his wrists about. He reached out for her but she dodged.

“Alex! Stand still,” she said. When he pouted, she gave his thigh a smack.

“Tease,” he muttered.

“Shh,” she snapped. “Hold still.”

Quickly, she grabbed each of the four carabiners and locked him into place.

***

And…you will find the rest of this adventure tucked neatly into Dirty Dates!

I am so thrilled to be included in another of Rachel Kramer Bussel’s anthologies, and honored to be in great company with a roster of amazing contributors. This is sure to be a delectable anthology full of hot erotic fantasies, so please pick up your copy on Amazon today!

Happy reading—and may your adventures be aplenty! 🙂

XX,
Jade

Woman on top of man, both of them smashed together in heated embrace

Erotic Fiction: “Everything”

Posted on by

He was everything. Everything. The flight of my soul, the fire of my heart.

It’s all I can think as I bury my head in his shoulder, bearing my teeth to his skin, feeling the wild bursts of his pulse as I rock above him. His breath tumbles out into my hair, quiet gasps that tell me how much he needs this. How much he needs me.

Just as I need him.Woman on top of man, both of them smashed together in heated embrace

“You,” he says.

The word breaks on his lips as I arch, sliding farther in his lap, taking him deeper into me. There is no sound in this room but ours, no thought between us but this, no awareness of anything beyond the sweet thrust of his cock as his fingertips dig into my back and steer me closer, like he’s never forgotten me.

I trail kisses up his chin and over his mouth. He sucks my lip between his teeth, his eyes open as he thrusts once, then again. That look, that one, says I will never leave you again. I will never let you go. I can feel it inside as I whimper and slide against him, feel it in my heart as his fingers tease their way up my flesh. He’s so deep inside I swear he’s penetrating my very soul, and I tilt back my head with a throaty moan.

I close my eyes then and he twines his fingers in my hair, staying deep despite his movement to lay me on my back. Our bodies are one on this mess of sheets. He wasn’t supposed to come here again, but then our life together had always been a disaster of shouldn’ts and shoulds.

But deep down, we knew what it was supposed to be.

“You,” he growls.

His kisses find my face as he presses closer, and our stomachs grow slick at the meshing of our bodies. The sway of our hips amplifies, a rapid pounding so intense I couldn’t see straight if I tried. And it’s with this motion—teeth locking on my earlobe, fingers clawing at my breast and down between us, grazing the swollen nub of my clit as he drives inside—that I can feel myself flying like I did, then. He leans back, watches as I gasp and moan, my lips numb as the spasms tear through me, making me shake uncontrollably as he continues to thrust, and thrust.

To love me like only he can.

When I finish shuddering, he releases the loudest groan. It’s the surrender that tells me he needed me then, now, forever. He comes inside, filling me with heat, and as we lay there it’s clear we’ve found our peace again.

“Always, you,” he pants.

His kisses are soft like raindrops from the corner of my eye down my cheek.

“And you,” I say.

Because he’s everything.

Wicked Wednesday Badge

 

Image for "The Lucky One" curtains with "Welcome to the Night Show. No regrets."

“The Lucky One” is Part of Libidinous Zombie – Out for Halloween!

Posted on by

Happy Halloween! Today, I am thrilled to announce the official release of Libidinous Zombie—a phenomenal new erotic horror anthology edited and narrated by the brilliant Rose Caraway!

For those of you who haven’t caught on to Rose’s incredibly enthusiastic promotion of this book through #LZ and #8authors all over Facebook and Twitter, the project is more than just a concoction of sex and gore. Rose and Big Daddy had a vision with this one—and it’s all aboLibidinous Zombie Coverut the darkness within each of us. I think Remittance Girl nailed it with her post about the release of Libidinous Zombie, in which she said, “Both erotic and horrific, the libidinous zombie that lives inside all of us is only really addressed at the intersection of horror and eroticism.” That’s the real kernel in this awesome new release, and it’s why Rose has said again and again that this is her special dream project.

And I am honored to be a part of this spectacular, spooky dream!

So, to celebrate release day (and Halloween), today I’m going to tell you about my story, “The Lucky One,” and I’m giving you a snippet of the story itself. I’d also like to encourage you to check out The Sexy Librarian’s Blog-Cast, where Rose has already started interviewing each of the authors included in this anthology. There, you can hear more about them, their writing, and their thoughts on the marriage of erotica and horror! (I’ll post a link to mine when it comes up, soon!)

For now, let’s start with a little back-story. “The Lucky One” ventures into my past…when a long time ago, I wrote a story about a stripper werewolf that was so titillating I realized that what I really longed to write was erotica. See, when Rose sent out her call for this anthology, I knew that story—that freakish, dark carnival ground, and the roguish werewolf I’d once envisioned thriving there—needed to come back to life. Except this time, the tale belonged to someone else, an adventurous young woman named Claudia, who snuck in to a special night show she should never have seen.

Because from that night on, her life would never be the same…

Excerpt from “The Lucky One”:

I swiped at a bead of sweat rolling down my cheek, surprised that what should have been such a ridiculouWelcome to the Night Show.s act was so clearly turning me on. But then, nothing in this show had been what it seemed—it kept swinging from one extreme to another so fast, like that moment when the rollercoaster’s about to drop—a blend of excitement and shit, get me off this ride.

The music’s tempo changed again, and the dancers cruised off the stage, each of them picking an audience member to dance with. The buxom woman headed straight for Rusty. I’d never seen him beam so bright. He shot me a delirious grin once she drew him up from his chair, and as I cheered in encouragement, she led him onto the stage. I couldn’t stop giggling as she laid him down and crawled all over him, sniffing at his neck, his chest, and his crotch like the wolf woman she was supposed to be. The whole audience was hollering and cheering, and clothes actually started coming off—not just with the dancers and their respective partners, but from random people in the audience. It was like the heat in the tent had made everyone crazy, or maybe it was the scent of the mist raining down on us.

I glanced up, curious, but a hand slipped under my chin.

“Hi there,” Sergi said. His warm fingers and husky voice sent a pulse up my spine. I swallowed hard, because this close, I smelled on him what I’d noted earlier, but stronger. It was the scent of man, of sex.

Of desire.

I was fangirling. Hard.

“What’s your name?” he said.

“Claudia,” I whispered. Sergi straddled my knees, and the rollercoaster began again, trapping me between arousal and shock. The most delicious smile crossed his lips as he dragged his fingertips over his hips, then trailed them to the button of his leather pants and snapped them open.

I heard a groan from the stage and looked past Sergi’s pelvis, spotting Rusty fully naked with the woman grinding all over him. Sergi steered my gaze back to him with the grasp he still had on my chin, and then he bent down so his face lined up with mine. “I wouldn’t worry about him, Claudia.” I tried to breathe, and he continued. “You’re a pretty little thing, aren’t you?”

He slid his hand into my hair, tugging it slightly, bringing a moan to my lips. When I cocked my head he flashed his smile again, and all I knew right then was him.

I’ve told you, I wish I could explain all this better. The way, out of nowhere, his body made me ache, or how the look in his eyes grabbed ahold of me, yanking something up from inside. Sergi leaned closer, tipping his lips toward mine, and my heart thumped in my chest.

“May I kiss you, Claudia?” he asked.

That voice filled my head, swimming in my thoughts, consuming every logical answer and leaving me with the one I muttered then.

“Yes.”

Sergi ran his fingers down my neck and pressed his mouth to mine. Our kiss was deep and so hot, our lips parting wide as our tongues tangled. I gasped when he slipped his hand down and cupped my breast, but when he lifted me out of my chair I fell into him, feeling the steel of his chest, and the hardness of his cock through his pants. He scooped me into his arms and I didn’t even protest, letting him carry me onto the stage not ten feet from Rusty and the other dancer, where they fucked hard and loud. It was strange to see Rusty like that, but my nipples tightened at the view, at the sounds, before Sergi laid me down and kissed me again. His hands ripped open my shirt. I touched his face as he gazed into my eyes, and tingles shot through my arms and legs.

I wanted him like I’d never wanted anyone in my life.

“This isn’t a strip show,” I murmured.

Sergi slid his hands between my thighs. He strummed me through the fabric, his words hot against my face.

“This isn’t a strip show, no. Much, much better.”

***

Libidinous Zombie features every horror you can imagine merged with sultry, erotic storytelling that is sure to terrify you and turn you on. With tales by Allen Dusk, Remittance Girl, Malin James, Tamsin Flowers, Raziel Moore, Janine Ashbless, Rose Caraway herself, and me, I’ve no doubt you will find yourself looking inside to the deepest, darkest corners of your soul…where pure primal fear meets intense, heart-pounding lust.

Now the question is—are you brave enough to join us?

XX,
JadeList of Authors

 

Very colorful and explosive fireworks!

On a Scale of 1 to 10…(News!)

Posted on by

On a scale of 1 to 10…I’m this excited:

Very colorful and explosive fireworks!

To translate, that’s, like, 15. Or maybe 20…

Or, maybe I’m just too excited to put a number on it!

See, I’ve had some news under my hat for a bit now, but, um, the word is officially out:

Screen shot of Jade's series announcement on Pub Lunch

Official posting from Pub Lunch

I am so, so thrilled to get to share this news! My fabulous agent Jessica Alvarez has been shopping around my erotic romance book for a little while, and I’m ecstatic that it’s been picked up by Carina Press—along with the rest of the series! The Assignment, The Discipline, and The Reward are all slated to be published starting sometime in late 2016 in the Lessons in Control series, and I seriously can’t be more delighted!

You may recall me mentioning the process of writing the first book in the series a couple times—it was a wild thing that just poured out of me at a bizarrely fast pace, and even though I put the continuation of the series aside for a while, I couldn’t stop imagining my characters resuming their tale. Theirs is a sexy, edgy, BDSM experience full of all sorts of adventures and heated exploration—and I have so much more to share with you in the coming months about not just the first book, but the whole series.

A giant thank you to Carina Press for taking a chance on my debut novel (and then second and third, too!), and to Jessica Alvarez for helping me on this journey!

Much more to report in the future, folks—but for now, please picture me bouncing around my house squealing (because it is totally happening)! 🙂

Thank you so much for being part of the excitement with me!

XX,
Jade

Cover for Show Yourself to Me

Show Yourself to Me – From the Fantastic Xan West!

Posted on by

Hi everyone! I’m thrilled to welcome Xan West today, a writer who has long impressed me as one willing to take risks and walk the edge. Xan’s fiction is always transgressive and bold, and, having had the opportunity to listen to a live reading, I can tell you Xan’s words will make you sit up in your seat.

Xan’s Show Yourself to Me is now out from Go Deeper Press—and I’m honored to be part of the blog tour for this collection. Xan is a writer who empowers with words and emotions that stand out in our genre, and this anthology is full of queer kink that explores power dynamics, consent, play, and community. The tour has been going on for a bit, so please be sure to check out the entire lineup of stops here, as well as Xan’s thoughtful, informative postings at Kink Praxis.

For now, I’m going to turn the floor over to Xan to share not only an intense excerpt, but a musing on a kink involving one of my favorite things: boots.

Take it away, Xan!

Cover for Show Yourself to Me

For the Love of Boots
By Xan West

Boots are one of my core kinks, and have been since the beginning. Boots are one of those kinks that can be really baffling to people, and bootlicking in particular is one of those things that lots of folks find deeply distasteful. One of my early online screen names was “bootlicker”, and it consistently garnered me both puzzled and squicked reactions.

From the outside it can get immediately read as being about humiliation, and sometimes it is. But there are so many other flavors of bootlicking. It can be about worship, or sex, or begging, or love, or service, or fetish, or submission, or dedication, or stubborn will, or gender, or getting the best shine possible. Like most kink acts, what you bring to it is really where the juice is.

When I write boots into my stories, I attempt to illuminate boot play in its specificity, to give the reader a clear sense of why this character is doing it and what it means to them. In the story “My Will,” a dominant chooses to kneel for the first time in fifteen years. He gave up submission after an abusive D/s relationship, and moved to the other side of the whip. He is drawn to submit to a man he trusts, who has offered a scene for his birthday, and rationalizes that it’s not a forever choice, more like a vacation.

I’m going to share an excerpt with you, that shows what boots mean to him in this particular scene. As a heads up, this excerpt includes D/s, boot care, boot worship, cock torture, rough body play, face fucking, consensual non-consent, and humiliation play.

An Excerpt from “My Will”

When I knelt to do his boots, it was like coming home. I savored every second of it, taking my time brushing on the saddle soap, carefully cleaning every inch of them. I had not even done my own boots in many years, much less anyone else’s. It was too dangerous, I had found: I got too trancey and submissive. I could let that happen in this space and time. I could let myself go there with this man I trusted immensely.

Flaming the polish was a delight. Bootblacking is such a sensual experience, and I wanted to take my time with it, relish every aspect. The scent of the polish, the dancing flames, the warmth of it on my fingers. The ritual was sacred, I knew that, each step vital to the whole. I applied two full coats of polish, shining it vigorously with the brush, pulling off my A-line shirt, ripping it in front of him, and using a piece of it to buff his boot. I lifted my gaze to meet his and asked permission. He stroked my cheek gently as he answered, and I closed my eyes so I might feel every millimeter of his hand on my skin.

I lick boots the old fashioned way: belly on the floor, as low as I can be. As I placed myself on the floor at his feet, I shivered. It felt so good to be here, to be worshipping the boots of this man I deeply respected. I was in his care, and he would be careful with me—I knew that. When I touched my lips reverently to his boot, I felt so full I could burst. This was exactly where I wanted to be. Tears fell onto the leather, and his boots soaked in their due. I could taste salt with the polish as I licked, pressing hard with my tongue, wanting him to feel it.

I had made myself forget what this tasted like, felt like. I concentrated hard on all of it, imprinting the memory of this lest it be the only time I would do it. His other boot came to rest on the back of my neck, and he used it to press my mouth down hard, groaning. He held me there for a good long time, his hand reaching down to stroke my hair, his bootheel digging into my shoulder. I didn’t want it to end. Then he lifted his boot from my neck and pulled my head up, telling me not to forget that the other boot needed care, too.

As I cleaned and polished, his hand stayed on my neck, calmly stroking. At some point, his boot snaked between my thighs and dug into my cock. I held my breath, gritted my teeth, and did my damnedest to remain focused on polishing his boot, to give it just as much care as I had given its brother. It was hard. The heel digging into my cock felt amazingly delicious, flawlessly excruciating. It took all I had to finish, and I could not be quiet while doing it. Growling moans kept fighting their way past my lips.

I lay on the ground again, pressing my lips into his boot, and felt him resting the sole of the other one on my back, pressing it into my skin, my naked belly on the dirty floor. It was heaven, and I began to tremble. So much, so intense, so exactly what I had been yearning for.

He pulled me up to my knees, suddenly, by the hair, tugged out his cock, and thrust it down my throat. It was amazing. I went from fifteen years of nothing to a glorious cock deep in my throat. I was gagging on it, tears seeping from my eyes, aching for him to use my mouth in exactly the way he needed. His hands gripped the back of my neck, and he rammed his dick as deep as it could go, relentlessly, selfishly, purely focused on his own need, growling, until he came, forcing me to swallow it, holding my mouth on his cock as he thrust repeatedly, until every drop was gone.

He released my neck, and his boot pushed me into the floor until I had my head pressed down onto it, his boot kicking my ass, ramming between my legs, stomping my thighs. It was brutal and intense and completely unexpected. I began to shiver, to scream no, and all he said was that no was not a safe word, and I better take it for him. His boots flattened me, kept me in the place I desperately ached to be, the place I feared with all of my heart.

He showed me exactly how much I wanted to be under his boot, how much I loved it. He made me say it to him, tell him I loved being under his boot, repeatedly, as he kicked me, dug the heels into me, hurt me with his boots. When I finally said it the way he wanted to hear it, he rewarded me by forcing my mouth onto the filthy floor. He made me lick it, to show him how much I appreciated his attention, his dominion, his boots showing me exactly where I belonged and what I loved.

I sobbed as I licked that dirty cold floor, the taste bitter and perfect, and he groaned, telling me my tears turned him on, that the sight of me under his boots was making him hard again, that if I did a good job he just might fuck me. Soon, I was licking salty wetness along with the grime on the ground, and I knew that I wanted to please him more than anything in the world. He was good enough to see inside me and give me exactly what I desperately ached for, and all I wanted to do was bring him a small portion of ease or pleasure.

He lifted my head and inspected the section I had been cleaning with my tongue, saying gruffly that I had done a good job on the floor, and on his boots, and that he thought I had the makings of a good boy in me. The universe stopped for a moment. All I could hear was those words of praise, and they slithered their way inside a shriveled place in my chest and watered it, just a little.

***

About the Book:

In Show Yourself to Me: Queer Kink Erotica, Xan West introduces us to pretty boys and nervous boys, vulnerable tops and dominant sadists, good girls and fierce girls and scared little girls, mean Daddies and loving Daddies and Daddies that are terrifying in delicious ways.

Submissive queers go to alleys to suck cock, get bent over the bathroom sink by a handsome stranger, choose to face their fears, have their Daddy orchestrate a gang bang in the park, and get their dream gender-play scene—tied to a sling in an accessible dungeon.

Dominants find hope and take risks, fall hard and push edges, get fucked and devour the fear and tears that their sadist hearts desire.

Within these 24 stories, you will meet queers who build community together, who are careful about how they play with power, who care deeply about consent. You will meet trans and genderqueer folks who are hot for each other, who mentor each other, who do the kind of gender play that is only possible with other trans and genderqueer folks.

This is Show Yourself to Me. Get ready for a very wild ride.

Find Show Yourself to Me at…

Go Deeper Press

Amazon

Barnes and Noble

***

Please be sure to check out Xan’s next stop at Ashley Young‘s site tomorrow. And, don’t forget to pick up your copy of Show Yourself to Me today!

XX,
Jade

About Xan: 

Xan West is the nom de plume of Corey Alexander, a recent transplant to Oakland from Brooklyn, who has been doing community kink education for over ten years. Xan has been published in over 35 erotica anthologies, including the Best S/M Erotica series, the Best Gay Erotica series, and the Best Lesbian Erotica series. Xan’s story “First Time Since,” won honorable mention for the 2008 National Leather Association John Preston Short Fiction Award. Xan’s work has been described by reviewers as “offering the erotica equivalent of happy ever after” and as “some of the best transgressive erotic fiction to come along in recent years.”

Xan refuses pronouns, twists barbed wire together with yearning, and tilts pain in many directions to catch the light. Xan adores vulnerable tops; strong, supportive bottoms; red meat; long winding conversations about power, privilege, and community; showtunes; and cool, dark, quiet rooms with comfortable beds. Find Xan’s thoughts about the praxis of sex, kink, queerness, power, and writing at xanwest.wordpress.com.

Tantalizing Terrors…to Come

Posted on by

Halloween, Halloween…it’s in the air! This is the time of year when everything starts to get a little bit creepy, fun, and wild—and that’s why today, I could no longer resist giving you a tantalizing preview of the delicious, sexy terror to come!

LZ logo Twtr dimentions with title and date

Libidinous Zombie is a project orchestrated by the fabulous Rose Caraway of The Kiss Me Quick’s. She’s a woman who likes her erotica with a twist, and because of that, I can assure you that the stories within will merge horror and erotica into something mighty combustible. I have so much to tell you about my story, “The Lucky One,” once this is out—but for now, I’m just going to leave you with a few teases.

First, the fantastic art for “The Lucky One,” created by the amazing Dayv Caraway:

Lucky One Blk Bkgnd FB

(Catch the art for all the stories right here!)

Next, check out the incredible lineup of other authors you’ll find included in the pages:

Allen Dusk
Janine Ashbless
Malin James
Raziel Moore
Remittance Girl
Tamsin Flowers
Rose Caraway

Finally, don’t miss this thoughtful post from Remittance Girl about the psychological reality behind the blending of erotica and horror!

This anthology is coming out for Halloween, which is just around the corner…are you ready?

XX,
JadeKill that Motherfucker

 

Picture of panties around red shoes

Elust #75: All the Sexy News Fit to Print!

Posted on by

Kilted Wookie
Photo courtesy of Kilted Wookie

Welcome to Elust #75 –

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 #75? Start with the rules, come back November 1st to submit something and subscribe to the RSS feed for updates!

 

~ This Month’s Top Three Posts ~

Is it hate? Am I a fraud?
On Rape Fantasy
Just Breathe

 

~ Featured Post (Molly’s Picks) ~

sex, surgery, celibacy

Sex, Death, and Squirting

~ Readers Choice from Sexbytes ~

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

On Filth

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!

 

Erotic Non-Fiction

How I Became an Escort
I’m 2 and 0 for the season
He fights back
Hands On
The foodslut and the semifreddo…
The Photographer
Ex-Nazi girl: my hand on the back of her head
I Belong To You

Thoughts & Advice on Kink & Fetish

Disciplinary Drives
Surrender
On Filth
On sex positivity in public play
Cock Rings 101
A New Scene

Thoughts & Advice on Sex & Relationships

The Fuck Feast Sexual Literacy Test
Sex Toys in Relationships — Yes, it’s OK.
Negotiating Power
Out of Touch
Don’t catfish: Be you.

Writing About Writing

On Jackie
Trigger Warnings (revisited)

Erotic Fiction

This would be fun
The Fucking Machine.
Erotic Fiction…With Aura
A Little Romance
Domination Dreams
My Pretty Dead Ones
Crushed…

Sex News, Opinion, Interviews, Politics & Humor

5 Hilarious Pieces of Anti-Sex Propaganda
19 Reasons to Cheat on Your Boyfriend

 

ELust Site Badge

Shadowed image of man holding half-clad woman from behind

What Do I Tell Her?

Posted on by

I am fortunate to have several close friends who support what I write, but, truth be told, I also have many family members who strongly and vocally disapprove. As we all know and as was discussed in many incredible posts before a few months back, erotica has long been the black sheep of the writing world, regardless of its quality. It’s a shame, really, that so many amazing authors can be slapped with a derogatory label and/or be “on the fringe” simply for writing about sex.

Just before the real heat of the erotica sex writing versus mainstream sex writing conversation arose, a close family member made a point to call out her negative thoughts on what I write, and—perhaps because of the ongoing conversation, or just because of how it all went down between us—it’s resonated in my head off and on all this time. She was not the relative who’d previously crushed me by telling me my talent was wasted; the words of this woman, instead, infuriated me. We were mid-phone conversation when she brought up the fact that her daughter had started asking what I write, and, instead of coming up with an answer, she had apparently called to tell me of her plight. She said, “My daughter is asking what you write. What do I tell her? What on earth am I going to tell her with what you write? Do you ever think about that? You’ve put me in a really weird position.”

Irritation is a gentle way of describing the feeling I had in that moment. Granted, I don’t have children, and of course the appropriate response is entirely dependent on the age of the child—but I’m pretty sure there are a plethora of ways for a parent to approach this without blaming someone else for putting her “in a really weird position.” I said, “Why don’t you just tell her I write fiction?” But the response was, “She wants to know what kind. What do I tell her?”

Again, I’m not a parent, so I said: “Why don’t you tell her what you’re comfortable with?”

Unfortunately, this relative went on to say how awful her situation was because of what I’d chosen to focus on, and I opted to get off the phone rather than be berated. But months later, the real answer I’ve wanted to say still floats around in my head. It’s the easy answer—for me—that I know she and many others might not accept, but that I’m certain is the answer many of us feel, and why so many of us have no issues writing something that is, unfortunately, so shunned:shutterstock_126180551-2onfbpage2

I write erotica.

Yes, it’s really that simple.

But okay. If we want to go further, if we need to delve into the depths of how powerful and real this genre is, then here’s my official answer:

I write erotica. I write fantasy. I write desire, discovery, and truth. I write love, intimacy, communication, relationships, and connection. I write human touch, empathy, grief, lust, and pain. I write reality, and about how we as people interact and share with one another, and the affect, good and bad, this has on our lives. And—whether or not anyone agrees with it—I’m writing something I love, and that I’ll continue to write because it shouldn’t be villainized when what it’s based on is happening everyday, in so many homes, between the very people who continue to object to it.

It’s sex. It’s real. More than that, it’s beautiful, amazing, deep, painful, transformative, close, and powerful. And you know what else? It’s the most natural thing in the world.

That, my dear? That’s what you tell her.

XX,
Jade

Image of woman straddling man, shadowed; Katarzyna Białasiewicz ©123RF.com

Erotic Fiction…With Aura

Posted on by

In the last three weeks, I’ve been through two doctor phone appointments, five live doctor appointments, one MRI, several blood tests, and even one full-fledged panic attack. To say it’s been a little bit of a roller coaster is an understatement—but the good news is, there’s nothing major wrong. Yay!

So what is going on? Well, according to the fabulous neurologist I saw last week, my migraines have morphed into something really goddamn special. I am fortunate in that I don’t generally get the nausea and hammer-pounding headaches of most traditional migraine sufferers; unfortunately, I get all sorts of weird sensory problems instead: depth perception issues, tingling and/or numbness in my arms, mental disconnect, vertigo, occasional vision problems, and sometimes, the headache. This time, however, I developed a bizarre numbness in my cheek—and later, the entire side of my face—paired with completely blurred vision in one eye, which led some doctors to believe I might be having a stroke. (That would be the day the panic attack struck, by the way.) I am thrilled to say that isn’t the case, but it does appear a chronic basilar/sensory migraine took residence in my head for over three weeks—complete with all these fun new symptoms!

I’m getting to a point here, I swear (migraine brain fog is real, people). When I mentioned to the neurologist that I’ve been okay writing in short spurts in the morning, but everything else is sending my head into a spin, he suggested I stop the cycle of migraine with a heavier duty NSAID and a few days off (and yes, I totally followed doctor’s orders there). However, when I asked him how migraines could literally change overnight and cling, desperately, in ways they never had before, his response was the most poetic and frustrating thing I could possibly have heard:

“The life of a migraine is a mysterious and beautiful thing.”

I totally laughed that off. But Saturday morning, as I lay tossing and turning under my covers in a groggy, migraine-clouded and dreamlike state, I was thinking about the bizarre tingles raining over my brain that didn’t hurt at all, but that were making things really fuzzy and weird.

And suddenly, I had this spark of an idea:

What if a person could embody the essence of a migraine? What would she be like, as a lover?

It took me a while to drag myself out of bed to type this one up, but the story below is what happened as I sat down to imagine the mysterious and beautiful life of a migraine.

I hope you enjoy it.

XX,
Jade

AURA

Image of woman straddling man, shadowed

Katarzyna Białasiewicz ©123RF.com

She comes into his life like a comet—a fiery bolt arcing across the skies, haloed and crashing down into the open meadow of his existence. She seems a quiet blip, at first, awakening beneath the sun on a lush bed of grass. She stretches herself out against it, her long, pale body blinding in its innocent beauty. Her fingers clutch the earth as she shimmers in the light, and she sighs at the caress of this world, this new place that surrounds her in warmth.

Instantly, he is drawn to her, knows her otherness and craves it. He takes her in as she begins to bloom, as she shows him that she is, in fact, no innocent at all. She is all curves and smiles, arms that encircle and hold, words of sweetness that tend to him just as he tends to her—but behind her glistening, loving eyes, there is something else. It is furious like the comet she rode in on, unbounded and wild, and it lures him forward in the heated swarm of his mind. It shushes away his fears when she kisses his cheeks, his forehead, his mouth, and when she tugs at his clothes and limbs, she draws him further into her sphere.

In the dark of night he invites her to his bed, for though she is unsurpassed in her beauty, it’s her mystery that has him tangled in her. He finds himself beneath her in the light of the moon, his breath stolen as she rocks above. Her hips grind in swirls of chaos, her hands possessing his skin, her kisses speeding his heart. The way she moves sinks into the chasm of his soul. She seeks all of him—not just his length buried within her, but the depths of every crevice of his being, every utterance of his heart, every glimmer of his mind as she writhes against him and his sheets. Her movements become glorious and pained, ripples on the surface of a once-placid lake when the cries spill out from her lips. He sees her then as what she is—nails sharp over him, and teeth cutting his skin in jagged lines. But her whimpers are all he hears, and they seize him in their rock together, taking him beyond every sensation he knew before.

When she collapses over his chest, they lie in silence.

His days are fraught with tension in his efforts to please her. He bathes her, feeds her, loves her through the pinch of her lips and the furrow of her brow. She will not speak, and she moves like a streak of lightning—stubborn and sharp, illuminating their path and yet setting him on edge, pasting goose bumps on his skin like stars against the deep black sky. He thinks, perhaps, the end approaches, that she is sparing them both the hurt to come, soothing the quiet that will fill his life until she falls to the surface of his earth once more.

They dance, this time, before bed. She swings him out in vibrant bursts, then yanks him close. She grasps him so tight his breath slips from inside and out into the vortex of the room. Her heat builds, scorching, suffocating. Blinding. He thinks as they spin, around and around, how much he loves and hates her. How he craves her, needs her. In her laugh he finds the answer to existence, a blurry question that leads to more questions but that, somehow, lets him settle beneath her in the way she commands.

He imagines curving his fingers around her throat, squeezing her away to nothingness—but she has coiled herself around him so tightly, he no longer knows where she ends and he begins.

When she fucks him again, her moans shatter mirrors and rattle pictures off the walls. Her gasps vibrate the room, the bed, the air trapped inside him, stifling in its icy slide against the innermost parts of his lungs. But he is enraptured with the thrust of her hips, with the sweat breaking over his chest when she sucks the tips of his fingers, with the shift of her body over him in the moonlight, even as he feels himself slipping away with her. He is losing his grasp on what is real, what is good, and when she comes, her cries and shudders render him frozen. She keeps arching until he erupts in her, and every last drop of him becomes hers.

He is still when she curls behind him, tucking herself close to his back. Her hands trace over his side, fingertips painting electric currents that circulate in his limbs, up into his face. She kisses his shoulder, then his neck. And though he cannot move, he feels her words when she breathes them into his ear, a shock of sound bursting inside his soul.

“I love you,” she whispers, “and I’ll see you again soon.”

In the morning, he wakes on damp, rumpled sheets. The evidence of their love has scented his skin, and the pillowcase beneath his cheek. He breathes in clean air, his air, and slowly lifts himself from the bed.

She is gone.

Wicked Wednesday Badge