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October, 2012

  1. So How in the Heck Did I Get Here? – a guest post by Michelle Ribaric

    October 19, 2012 by Heather Cole

    It’s our first FELT TIPS guest post, and here to pop our cherry is the eloquent Michelle Ribaric. Michelle is author of the erotica short, All Work and No Play. Look for her and all the other amazing writers (and me!) in December for the first office supply themed erotica anthology. Kisses! Heather

     

    I have a tricked out hand basket.  It’s got a king sized bed, a Roman shower, a hot tub, along with a live-in gorgeous chef, a kick ass entertainment system and a few friends, preferably hot and wearing kilts.  At least that’s my take on it.  It also blares Highway to Hell at times just to annoy the neighbors.

    So why do I have a hand basket at all you might ask?  Well, as of December, I will be a totally published author; in the amazing anthology– FELT TIPS.  But I’ll be a  *gasp * EROTICA author.  Thus the hand basket.

    Well to get there, we need to go back to the beginning.  I was born in the South; the rural South; the oops, that big metal thing you just tripped over darlin’?  That was the Buckle of the Bible Belt.  Yea.  In addition to that my mother was a converted Catholic.  Not the hey we go to church on Easter and Christmas.  Not even the we go once a week and on Holy Days.  Oh no.  My mom became the one that goes to church 6 days a week, petitioned to have the masses back in Latin, and started doing pilgrimages to countries with shooting and land mines.  And she sent me to Catholic school for grades 1-8.  I still get twitchy when I see penguins.  At least penguins don’t carry rulers.

    So how did I get here?  I argued as a kid – a lot.  I argued with the nuns, priests, my mother, and I waited.  Out of 313 graduating students I was the only one to leave the state.  In other words, I ran and I ran fast.  Then I began to research and ask questions and read more books.  Books that weren’t allowed at home.

    And I wrote.  I had always dabbled in writing and loved it, but was told to pick a worthy career – my parents were horrified when I told them my top career choices I wanted were – author, chorus dancer in NY, and tennis pro.  Seriously.  They were NOT impressed.  Imagine that.  Anyway I kept writing – mystery, non-fiction, kids, and finally romance.  But nothing that I ever considered “worthy” – enter that lovely “voice” in my head that sounded amazingly like a cross between my mother and one of the nuns I endured.

    Then the internet happened – well the internet became available to the normal folk.  And with that book came shops online, chat rooms, webpages, blogs, and boy did a whole world open up to me.  I read things I had never heard of.  And I liked them.  And I wrote more, but kept it secret because that silly mindset of good girls don’t do this was still trapped in my head.

    I met an amazing guy and married him.  And he didn’t care if we had sex in a bed – there was the couch, the kitchen counter, the backyard, the car, etc.  And we had fun, a lot of fun.

    And after a few years the Universe decided I needed to have my turn at being a female Atlas and produced an amazing load for my shoulders.  My father passed away and then my husband’s job, that we had moved to the West Coast for, laid him off.  It took him a year to find a job and in the meantime, I worked part time jobs to keep us afloat.  He found a job – 363 miles away and got a studio apartment while I kept our home going.  Two years later my husband was home with a local job and we breathed again.   Only to have the Fates let us know we were just getting started.

    My remaining Aunt died; my great-uncle, that had been close to me after my grandfather had died when I was 9, died; we lost our 20, 19and 18 year old cats, my mother had a stroke; my big brother died unexpectedly and my sister – the stage 4 cancer survivor who had survived a major heart attack and had a pacemaker and a defib implanted – and I had to step up and handle everything.  I flew back for a week at a time to the South every 4-5 weeks.   I met with lawyers and financial people and helped take care of my mom.  A year later mom died and my great “Auntie” passed as well leaving us to clean out houses, and deal with more things that I had never imagined.  And I wrote.  A LOT.  I wrote in journals.  I wrote letters that were never sent to folks that abandoned me during all of this or that went out of the way to hurt me.  I wrote romance; I wrote sex; I wrote erotic romance, nonfiction, cookbooks, kid’s fiction.  It helped to keep me sane and now, three years later, I’m still on those planes, although not as much, helping to bring in harvests and help out sis.

    And here’s what that nightmare taught me:   On a planet of 6 billion plus people those voices in my head represented less than maybe 10 – definitely less than 100 – I should never have listened to them.  If you don’t reach for your dreams NOW, you may never get tomorrow.  They are your dreams – therefore they are worthy of your time and your love and screw anyone – not in a good way, mind you – that tells you they are not.  Every day you wake up is a chance – make of it what you can.

    And after a glimpse, a thought, a chance – I grabbed it – Thank you very, very, much Tiffany!, and now, there’s no stopping me.  Yes, the Universe keeps throwing things at me, but I’ve got a tricked out hand basket and I’m reaching for every dream I’ve got!

     

     

    Michelle was born a Southern gal, and we all had farms.  Worked everything from waiting tables, to being a vet tech, to working in a funeral home.  Plans are to get back to the farm with Highland Cattle, Cashmere goats and a lot more.  Love being ruled by animals; happily married and hoping to be an athlete again – oh and a writer, always a writer

    Contact via Twitter:
    Michelle BellRibaric  

    Category Guest Post | Tags: , | 5 Comments

  2. FELT TIPS IS COMING!

    October 17, 2012 by Heather Cole

    Oh it’s coming, all right! All over your… well, where it comes is really up to you. Soon FELT TIPS will be unleashed! On December 12, 2012 to be exact.

    FELT TIPS is the world’s first ever office-supply themed erotica anthology, and I was lucky enough to be accepted into this super-hot collection of stories. My office supply was a Post-It note with girl-on-girl lovin’ plus demons. Yes, the smexy took place in office hell.

    One of the best parts of the anthology is that all proceeds go to charity. Bonus! You get off and your dollars go towards helping the  under-privileged. It’s win-win all over the place, and you’ll be able to meet some of the authors right here on your favorite Vagina Antics. We’ll feature the naughty and creative writers with original posts relating to their own adventures. You know you want it!

    Up this Friday is the smashing Michelle Ribaric, and you’ll read about her journey from Catholic school girl to erotica writer. You’re not going to want to miss a word.

    Category Announcements | Tags: , | 2 Comments

  3. New Management

    October 11, 2012 by Heather Cole

    It all began with a little red heart next to one of my pictures on Fetlife. The man who bestowed it had a handsome, smiling face and was partnered with a young woman who had recently posted a journal entry about having “no expectations” when it came to relationships. It was good writing, and I admired their open, loving way with one another. It’s hard sometimes to get a feel of people electronically, but Spanks and Miss M gave me a good vibe.

    FINE! I was stalking them. OK? I was running late to Liri’s birthday party at Matt’s house, because my muffins wouldn’t rise. Not a euphemism. So I was looking at Fet and trying to formulate my intentions for the evening. I know I have a tendency to overthink things, but I like deciding what I want out of an evening ahead of time. Since I currently have no Master or Dom, I like to think about my options. You see, I’m under new management–my own.

    When I arrived at the party, it was no surprise when Liri grabbed me by the hand to meet some “awesome folks.” It was right in keeping with my goals for the night. I intended to meet at least three new people, and I wanted to help Liri celebrate. After making our way through a crowd of people, I was suddenly staring face-to-face with the very couple I had been looking at on my computer screen. In fact, I think my first sentence was, “holy fuck, I was just stalking you on Fetlife!” Yes, I’m a card carrying member of dork.

    I was thrilled to discover that Spanks and Miss M were as engaging as I had thought. They were friendly and kind and smoothed right over my stupid opening line. Liri drifted away to speak with someone else, and it wasn’t long before Miss M divulged that she had a bit of a crush on Liri. Darlings, if I had a dollar for every person, male and female, that has told me that, I’d be typing this on a gold plated laptop. Of course I was delighted to facilitate some play between the nubile Miss M and my girl. I believe Liri’s exact words were, “it’s my birthday, and I’ll do whatever the fuck I want!” She then turned to the excited couple and explained, “Heather is a connoisseur of pain and a slave.” As I blushed at the introduction, Liri asked me to be her assistant.

    Miss M protested when I knelt to unfasten the tiny buckles around her slender ankles, but I brushed off her offer to help. “This is the perk of having a slave,” I said. I carefully folded her clothes and set her wine glass to the side where it wouldn’t get knocked over by floggers or canes. The services I performed, although small, were significant. I’m service inclined, generally speaking, in my day-to-day interactions, but that night was different. I realized hours later that the thing that sent a sizzle of electricity through me was demonstrating what I was capable of. It was a mere ripple on the surface of my deep submission, but it was as if I said with each graze of my fingertip along her calf, “do you realize what it would be like to own me? Even for a night…”

    Miss M was cuffed to the large wooden frame in the living room, and Spanks and I sat back to watch the scene. Sweeties, never doubt for a moment that my Liri isn’t a fucking sadistic cunt. She will smile and laugh and tell you the very best things from her giant science brain, and then that beautiful woman will treat your most tender bits to some serious pain. From the volume of Miss M’s shrieks, I think she’d agree with me. After I snapped some excellent pictures of Spanks with his head buried between Miss M’s creamy thighs, Liri cleaned up the implements she had used and motioned me upstairs.

    We ended up in a tangle on the bed, and an orgasm soon followed. Mine, that is. It should probably have been Liri receiving the orgasm since she was one of the three birthday girls that night, but when she’s feeling bossy, I’m a very happy recipient of her oral administrations. Then she bounded out of bed and tugged on her second outfit of the evening, announcing that she was going downstairs to receive birthday spanks. I moved to follow, but I was much slower to pull myself together. A good orgasm can do that to you.

    I was almost out of the bedroom when Miss M appeared in the doorway with Spanks in tow. She was wearing his white button down shirt and was a vision of red hair and pale, smooth skin. I gave her a hug of congratulations on a great scene, and she said something complimentary in return. Our conversation is a bit blurred in my memory. I can remember the feel of her hands on the curve of my waist and how close her heart-shaped face was to mine. She wanted to play with me. Even if the actual words had never crossed her lips, I would have felt it in the charged air between us. My brain almost short-circuited on our sexual sparks, but I experienced a moment of panic. Who did I ask for permission?

    I’m not accustomed to operating without specific rules. Liri doesn’t own me. We’re dating. We love each other. But she has never restricted anything I do. I’ve asked her for things, but she has never required anything of me like, “thou shalt not play with other women!” The conflict is that I’ve been trained to navigate with specific rules in place about what I may or may not do in a play situation. My instincts were to automatically ask permission as any slave would, but there wasn’t anyone to ask. Just when I thought I’d have to run in the bathroom and hide, Miss M said the thing that sealed my fate, “I’ve never had the chance to explore a woman before.”

    I’ve blogged about some of my bisexual challenges here, so the regular readers will know that I spent years yearning to have a “real” experience with another woman. I feared that I would be forever stuck in the bi-curious category because of lack of opportunity and a lack of confidence with women. When Miss M said that, her words reverberated with my own. I also saw a glimmer of what my heart truly wanted–to be used as a sexual toy. At some point Spanks asked to video us for his personal library, and you know me, I agreed. It was for posterity!

    Nails raked down my chest as teeth fastened around my right nipple. Instinctively I arched my back, but Miss M pinned my lower body firmly with her own. Her hair was a cascade around me as she nibbled and kissed her way over my body. She complimented me, worshipped me, and I felt honored and… speechless with the gift she was giving me. Someone’s first. Miss M’s first. The memory of it brings all those feelings back, and I’m grateful all over again as I sit here and write.

    Miss M’s mouth was still between my legs when Liri came back into the bedroom.

    “OH!” she said and disappeared into the bathroom.

    Miss M and I parted with more hugs and caresses while my brain churned. Technically I hadn’t broken any rules, but my slave instincts were in high gear. I needed to apologize to Liri. I tried to squelch my rising panic. The voice of reason whispered, this isn’t the same situation. Liri is different. We didn’t have enough rules that kept our feelings safe! I argued with logic. What was I supposed to do, just blunder around until I really fucked something up? I needed to fix something. I worried that I had somehow hurt Liri even though nothing of the sort had been verbalized between us. Liri swore she was fine, that what I had done was fine, that everything was peachy birthday keen. But as I’ve written a hundred times before, old patterns are a bitch to change. If she had taken a crop to me or caned me until I sobbed, it would have been a relief; that remembered pattern of guilt assuaged in physical pain. Maybe the uncertainty I fretted over was related to both of us trying to feel our way through a completely new situation. Neither one of us had expected me to be the lady cherry popper, but there I was in the afterglow.

    Liri told me to get on the bed again. I frowned in confusion but did as she ordered. She gave me one instruction: I had to count my orgasms out loud. Once my brain caught up with my body, I relaxed. Liri probably didn’t mean it as a reclaiming, but the slave in me interpreted it as such and took comfort in it. I tried to articulate the feeling later, but I don’t think I managed it. Liri and I have talked about playing with the incredible Miss M again, but it’s Liri who has my time, my energy and a piece of my heart. She’s also the one who inspired me to yell, “four is my favorite number!”

    Category Polyamory | Tags: ,,, | 7 Comments

  4. The Time I Wanted to Punch Yoda

    October 3, 2012 by Heather Cole

    Luke: All right, I’ll give it a try.
    Yoda: No. Try not. Do… or do not. There is no try.

    I’ve almost broken myself of the habit of saying, “I’ll try.” Most of the time I say, “I’m going to do my best.” This practice is manifesting itself in my life in some incredible ways. I’m doing work that I love, my daughter is healthy and happy, and I’m dating a wonderful woman. I’m making friends and connecting with fellow writers, and every night I’m thanking the universe for the abundance in my life. Oh it’s not roses every day, but I’m creating the life I have always wanted. So why the hell am I punching Yoda, you ask? Because I’m afraid and punching a short jedi makes me feel better. Just kidding. I don’t really want to punch him, but I would like to borrow his light saber for a couple hours.

    Most days I’m not afraid. Most of the time I don’t worry that my ex-husband is going to discover our blog and haul me to court to fight for custody. Just writing that, however, spurs the monkeys in my brain to chatter fearfully. I’ve read about that happening. A sex-positive, kinky woman came out on her blog and put a face to her words. She wanted to stop hiding and embrace her identity wholly, and her ex-husband suddenly sued her for sole custody of their child as a result. They battled it out for five years until he finally dropped it. Reading her story was like watching my worst nightmare come to life. I work damn hard to keep my Vagina Antics work and kinky life separate from my daughter. I work even harder to keep my life secret from my ex-husband.

    Last night my mother said, “I didn’t know how bad it was until I visited you before you moved out. I had no idea how he was treating you.” Her words managed to push me right back into the feelings of that time and the constant fear that accompanied me. I spent most of my marriage afraid of what that man could do, and then ironically, he did even worse than that when I told him I was leaving. All the horrible things he said to me meant nothing in comparison to the threat of taking our daughter. The sheriff, the subpoena, the formal language sprawled over eight pages of thick paper detailing an investigation of my life… thinking about that time still makes me cry. It’s like my body can’t help but remember the terror despite my mind reminding me that it’s over.

    Yoda is right, dammit. I’m not trying. I’m consciously refusing to let that anxiety consume me again. I work hard and save my kinky social life for the evenings that my child is with the ex. I keep moving forward, meeting new people and telling them about Vagina Antics when I feel safe to do so. I’m sorry if I keep some things hidden, but there’s that nagging voice of worry in my head. What if they know him somehow? What if he finds out? What if he comes after me again?

    The balance of good here is much greater than my fears, and someday way down the road, I hope to be able to post my smiling face next to my writing. In that far off future, I want to be able to talk frankly with my daughter about my journey. I’ll skip the details of the naked parts, of course, but I want her to know that I didn’t hide because I was ashamed. I would rip the heart out of anyone who hurt her, and I don’t want my choices to limit hers in any way. But I probably won’t tell her about threatening Yoda. Hey, we all have our secrets.

    Category Divorce | Tags: ,,, | No Comments