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November, 2012

  1. The Three Date After Turkey Day

    November 27, 2012 by Heather Cole

    Last year at Thanksgiving I was in the middle of a heated custody battle for my little girl. A lawyer was threatening to investigate my entire life for evidence that I was an unfit mother, because I had the courage to admit to a sex therapist that I had kinky fantasies. Revealing my soul in what was supposed to be a “safe” space merely gave my ex-husband the fuel he needed to move all of our assets into his name and sue me for full custody. His demands were that I move out, find a job and leave my child. Instead I was staked out in the guest bedroom, fighting with everything I had while pretending to my child that we were going to be fine. To give me a greatly needed break, my father bought me a plane ticket for Thanksgiving, and I joined my family with my child in tow and a suitcase overflowing with sorrow. When Mama talks about that holiday, all she’ll say is, “I was so afraid for you.” Hell, I was terrified for myself.

    This year I’m thankful that my life is completely different. Looking back at that time, I know now that everything had to blow up in order for me to build the life that I truly wanted and needed. Even though I didn’t get to have my daughter this year because of joint custody, I’m grateful that she’s with me more often than not. Mama and I did our usual two days of cooking in preparation of the day, but instead of having twenty people around the table, there were only three: me, Mama and my girlfriend, Liri. And to compound my grateful heart, I was able to spend the day after Thanksgiving with all three of my people.

    I had to giggle about the timing. I had planned my date with K a week ago, and Liri and I had Thanksgiving on our shared calendar for months. I swear, sharing a calendar in Google is practically foreplay at this point in my poly relationships. I’m learning that polyamory isn’t just about finding other “open” people and figuring out whether their version of open is compatible with your definition. It’s also about the simple, yet complex, factor of time. I’m not only making a date with my partner, I’m scheduling around their children and/or other partners. Throw in work and my writing… the shit gets complex. For example, Boy Scout’s ex decided to take the kids unexpectedly so he had a sudden opening in his schedule, and we decided to take advantage of it. Both K and Boy Scout are new relationships (K has been “recently upgraded.” His words, not mine), and they met my mother for the first time since she was visiting. Mama met Liri during her last trip here and was interested in meeting the boys on this visit. (They all passed with flying colors.)

    Most of the time, my kinky calendar keeps me straight *snort* and stress free. During the holidays, however, everyone’s schedule gets a little wonky. As a divorced single mom, I must be flexible enough to handle unexpected sickness, extended family visits and uncooperative exes. And that’s just on my side.  It’s challenging but rewarding when something fits and you get to see the person you really wanted to see. Which was exactly what happened on Friday.

    The day of dates began with Liri arriving at 10:00 dressed in a gorgeous red dress and cowboy boots. We ate slices of the coconut pie I had baked the day before and talked about her plans to attend a party with her boyfriend later that night. We also made some outrageous pie innuendo with a straight face that went right over Mama’s head, thank goodness. Then we cuddled on the couch while Mama did some work on her laptop in the dining room. Even Liri’s comment, “Oh Heather knows a lot about restraint” didn’t phase my Mama. It’s an exquisite type of torture to have a beautiful woman sitting beside you and not be able to touch her. Touch her how you want to touch her, with fingers and lips and tongue.

    Liri left after lunch so I could get ready for my date with K. This was our third date, and he took me to a meditative labyrinth not far from my house. We went to a bar afterwards and discussed Joseph Campbell as our bodies drifted closer and closer to one another. My conversations with K make me ponder things long after we’ve separated. Even our waitress’ luscious breasts didn’t distract me. Ok, they didn’t distract me too much. Our time spun to an end, and K had to get back to his wife and family and I had to return to Mama. We had some explicit PDA against his car before he whisked me back home which only left me wanting more. I’m still smiling about him whispering in my ear, “you know I’m going to fuck your brains out, right?”

    The Boy Scout arrived around supper time. I fixed him a plate full of leftovers, and we sat at the table with Mama and talked about our respective holidays. Boy Scout showed us pictures of his southern Thanksgiving buffet, and we debated the inappropriateness of the kiwi fruit on his plate and his dislike of deviled eggs (which is so NOT southern, y’all). His dimples flashed, and by the time we settled on the couch to watch some James Bond, I really wanted to get naked and fuck the man already.

    Eventually Mama went upstairs to bed, and I learned just how appropriate my nickname of Boy Scout was. I begged him to fuck me. I pleaded. I shed my sweater and pants and begged some more. The man remained resolute. I suppose I should be relieved that one of us has some restraint, but I’ll have to stop being irritated about it first. I saw my people a lot this week, but didn’t have sex once. Even a four mile run didn’t dent my sexual frustration, nor did the threat of a task from Boy Scout if I didn’t stop being so bratty. Am I pouting? Yes, I am. Now hush.

    Lest you think I’m an ungrateful slut, let me say that I’m thankful for each of them. They’re all different and perfect in their unique ways. I’m grateful to have had the chance to see them and to get Mama’s seal of approval which isn’t handed out willy-nilly.

    Mama: “Your lifestyle choices are funny.”

    Me: “Funny different or funny ha-ha?”

    Mama: *thinks a moment* “Both.”

    You know what? I can live with that. Happy day after turkey day, y’all.

    Category Polyamory | Tags: ,, | 2 Comments

  2. Spooky Sexy

    November 26, 2012 by Heather Cole

    The first thing I ever wrote was a novel with vampires and werewolves before such things were super cool and then super uncool. I can see the manuscript sitting in its box from here, and some day I will pull it out and see if I can salvage a story from it. Some parts of it are very good. Other parts… not so much.

    While I was trying to edit that novel, I fell in with a group of horror writers. My stories have always run to the dark side of human nature, but I prefer spooky to slasher. I’m very bad at writing blood and gore. I prefer to muck around with the mental twists and turns of reality vs fantasy/sane vs insane, because what’s more scary than the darkness that dwells in our hearts? And yes, sweeties, we all have darkness. I like playing with scary things, and even though Vagina Antics eats up much of my writing time, I’m always working on something for the Dark Side.

    When I wrote HIS PET, it was the kind of story where I fell in love with every word. A horror writing friend ran it in it’s original version when I was just getting my feet wet in the writing world. A long time after that when Jason Darrick invited me to guest post something kinky horror-ish, I thought this super short story might do the trick.  I knew it needed a facelift, so I presented it to my critique group where they gutted it (in a good way). At one point a writing comrade looked at me and said, “I wrote a story too about my ex-husband after our divorce. It was very therapeutic.” My mouth dropped open, and I just stared at her. “But this story is kinky and my ex is about as straight as… OH.” She was absolutely right even though I didn’t make the connection when I was writing it.

    Many thanks to Jason Darrick, horror writer and contributor to FELT TIPS, for hosting me. This has been an absolute blast.

    Click here to be whisked away to Jason Darrick’s Crumbling Abode and HIS PET

     

     

    Category Guest Post | Tags: ,, | 2 Comments

  3. Guest Post by Patricia Correll

    November 23, 2012 by Heather Cole

    Today’s post comes from the talented Patricia Correll, writer and contributor to FELT TIPS. The best part about being part of an anthology (I wrote The Saint of Office Hell) is getting to know all of my fellow authors. Although every story falls beneath the erotica umbrella, each author brings his/her special style and spin to these tales of delicious office sexiness. Without further ado, here is Patricia and how she came to write for the FELT TIPS anthology edited by Tiffany Reisz. We promise that at VAGINA ANTICS, you’ll never be bored.  xo – Heather

     

    I’d written sex scenes, of course. If you write stories for grown-ups you can hardly avoid it. But I’d never written a sex scene quite like this before.

    For two nights in frigid January I huddled over the space heater- my constant companion in the winter months- and scribbled into my battered notebook (ten for $1.00 during the after back-to-school retail lull). It was one of those stories that pours forth in a matter of hours, the words tumbling out faster than my stiff fingers could write. It was one of those stories that begins neat, all the letters slanting the same way, but devolves into scratches written by something with no opposable thumbs. My husband knew what I was writing but didn’t ask about it; he was probably afraid to know if the flush suffusing my face  came from the heater or my prose.

    It began the week before, when I visited my friend Tiffany. Over a breakfast of apple-cinnamon pancakes she said, “I have a writing opportunity for you, Patricia.” She told me about the anthology. I chuckled. It was nice of her to think of me, but erotica wasn’t my thing. Even if I tried writing erotica, it would probably be terrible. My sex scenes were always Mary Renault-ish: not quite as blink-and-you’ll-miss-it as hers, but rarely continuing after the pants came off. I just never felt compelled to go further; the reader knows they’re doing it, let’s move on.

    A couple days later I took my toddler to Wendy’s for lunch (don’t judge me!). He’s charming and often funny, but unfortunately he’s not yet a brilliant conversationalist, so between wiping ketchup off his face and sipping my lemonade I watched the other people in the restaurant. At the counter I saw a middle-aged African-American man in manager’s garb say something to the cashier, a skinny white college kid. They laughed together.

    Of course I automatically assumed they must be gay lovers. Wouldn’t you?

    The idea stuck. It was perfect for my first attempt at erotica. (I’d read m/m erotica before, and always complained about the lack of vocabulary: ‘ass’ and ‘cock’ are used waaaaaaaay too often. But in writing this story, I discovered that it’s almost impossible to write m/m erotica without using ‘ass’ and ‘cock’ a LOT. I stand humbled and corrected.). Thus the feverish two nights.

    I finished up, revised it, and released it to Tiff via the Internet. “Don’t feel obligated to publish this,” I told her, even though I knew she’s far too professional to accept something of mine just because we’re friends.

    So when she actually accepted it no one was more surprised than me.

    It was a revelation. Holy shit! I can write graphic sex- at least, gay man sex. Graphic gay man sex that a really talented erotica author liked. I’d always considered myself a SpecFic writer, but wow, I can diversify if I want. I was so excited, I called my husband to tell him.

    His first question was, “Are you going to use a pen name?”

    What? No. I’m not ashamed of anything I write. Why would I use a pen name?

    “Well, you’re doing some good YA-type stuff right now. I would hate to see you blacklisted because one time you wrote erotica.”

    I’d never thought of that. Would the YA community reject me if I wrote erotica too? Lots of New Wave SF authors wrote erotica and no one seemed to care. But what about YA? I never wrote specifically for a YA audience; it’s just that some of what I write might be attractive to a young audience. But certainly not all of it. After much thinking, I decided, fuck it. I appreciated his concern, but pen names go both ways. If I become a famous YA author, I’ll use a pen name for that. I’m not going to give up my name for a potential future career in YA.

    With that decided, I proudly posted on my blog, Facebook, and Google+ that I was going to be in an erotica anthology. Response was positive. None of my family or friends seemed bothered by the news, or at least they didn’t post their concerns on my Facebook page if they were. My mom, who usually accepts whatever I am writing with a smile (sometimes a tense smile, but a smile nonetheless), asked me, “I know what erotica is, but what does m/m mean?”

    This is the same woman who on seeing the “Lady Heather” episode of CSI with me, asked,”What are all those people doing?”

    Have you ever tried explaining BDSM to a 50-something woman who happens to be your mom? It’s an experience.

    Luckily she accepted the gay dudes with a smile (a tense one). I don’t think she’ll buy the anthology. But that’s cool; I know she still loves me.

    And then the publicity began. Thanks to Tiffany and all the other successful writers in the anthology, I found myself doing an interview (on the lovely Jenny Lyn’s blog) AND this guest post. All for a 2,000 word story I wrote in two days. It’s fun, and amazing, and I am learning a lot about networking and how to promote myself.

    So my first time has been nothing but a great experience. I’m aware that so far I’ve been lucky; my circle of friends and my community is wide-open and tolerant of almost anything so long as it’s legal (and tolerate things that aren’t legal but probably should be). I don’t know if I’ll ever write another erotica story, but now I know I can. It’s a cool feeling. I recommend giving it a shot if you haven’t already. You just might be pleasantly surprised!

     

    Patricia Correll was abandoned as a child in the wilds of Hungary, where she was raised by a family of badgers. Discovered as a preteen, she was adopted by an American couple and now lives in Kentucky with her husband, toddler son and cat familiar. To this day she sleeps in a burrow in the backyard.

    She writes mostly speculative fiction. “Theo’s Donation” is her first erotica. You can find her latest short story, “Spawn of the Spider God”, in the Mythos Revisited issue of Fantastic Horror.

    You can also hook up with her (not like that) on Google+ or check out her blog, patriciacorrell.blogspot.com.

    Category Guest Post | Tags: ,, | 4 Comments

  4. Glorious Wednesday

    November 21, 2012 by Heather Cole

    This week has been stellar. Nikki and I made the TOP 100 SEX BLOGGERS OF 2012 and the release of erotica anthology FELT TIPS is just around the corner. To top off our chocolate cupcake of sexy goodness, we’re hosting two fantastic writers: Jenny Lyn of BITE fame and Patricia Correll, author of SPAWN OF THE SPIDER GOD. Yup, spiders. *shiver* Want to gobble up their amazing words or scare yourself silly that there are spider spawn underneath your bed? (not that I know this from personal experience or anything.) Keep reading, y’all! You can find ’em right here.

     

    Patricia Correll was abandoned as a child in the wilds of Hungary, where she was raised by a family of badgers. Discovered as a preteen, she was adopted by an American couple and now lives in Kentucky with her husband, toddler son and cat familiar. To this day she sleeps in a burrow in the backyard.

    She writes mostly speculative fiction. “Theo’s Donation” is her first erotica. You can find her latest short story, “Spawn of the Spider God”, in the Mythos Revisited issue of Fantastic Horror.

    You can also hook up with her (not like that) on Google+ or check out her blog, patriciacorrell.blogspot.com.

     

     

    Jenny Lyn is a writer of naughty stories and a lover of all things southern, including her tiny hometown in north-central Florida. Wedged between the historic Suwannee River and the beautiful Gulf of Mexico, it’s hot, sticky, and full of mosquitoes, but she wouldn’t have it any other way. When she’s not pecking away on her laptop and arguing with the voices in her head, she’s fishing with her husband or taking her teenage son to see one of their favorite rock bands in concert. She has an ebook out now, Saving Sydney; short stories in the upcoming erotic anthologies, Best Women’s Erotica 2013 and Felt Tips; and many more things in the works. She can be found rambling about everything from Elvis to moonshine at her website: http://www.authorjennylyn.com, and often saying inappropriate things on Twitter @Jennylynwrites.

     

    Category Announcements | Tags: ,,,, | No Comments

  5. Out in the Open – Guest Post by Jenny Lyn

    November 19, 2012 by Heather Cole

    On the subject of Ms Jenny Lyn, I have almost too much to say about the topic. I could talk the ears off your head regarding the woman. Our friendship was sparked through Felt Tips, and you can read about our first interactions here. She wrote for Vagina Antics and I wrote for her blog. Our homance, for lack of a better word, blossomed from there. She is one of my virtual friends who feels as real to me as my darling Nikki. Jenny Lyn’s writing gives me goosebumps in all the right places and her kindness and generosity have buoyed my spirits. Her new short story BITE was inspired by a little challenge I threw her way. I’m honored that we’re hosting her once again. xo Heather

     

    You know the naked dream people talk about having when they’re nervous about something? The one where you’re standing in a room full of clothed people and you’re the only one who’s naked? I had it once back when I was a teenager, right before starting junior high. I thought I’d outgrown that kind of exposed feeling, but that’s exactly how I felt the day my boss called me into his office to tell me I’d been outed as a writer of “porn.” His words, not mine.

    I don’t know what I expected really since I wasn’t keeping what I was doing on the side a complete secret in my tiny, ultra-conservative local community. It had to get out eventually, right? In hindsight, I should’ve kept my big mouth shut, but when you’re doing something you absolutely love and it’s being met with great results, it’s in our nature to want to share. We’ve been groomed that way from the time we’re children, to expect a reward or a pat on the back when we do something good. I foolishly thought that even the people who might not like the subject matter would still be happy for me, and most were. Things were clicking along smoothly. I think sometimes all it takes is time for people to get over the shock before they eventually move on to acceptance. Or not, but whatever. It’s their choice.

    But I never thought in a million years that someone would take it upon themselves to inform my boss. Hearing him say that “they” (the complainer) thought what I wrote was offensive made me want to throw up. My face flushed hot with anger and embarrassment. We erotica writers like to say that we’re not ashamed of what we write, but when you’re standing in front of your boss having to defend your decision to do so, that emotion still manages to find its way in.

    Like it or not, there are always going to be people in this world who sit on their high horses and judge others. Like it or not, there are always going to be people who are offended by something. And like it or not, those people are always going to be vocal to the point of obnoxiousness. Free speech works both ways.

    At this point I need a job so I listened to what he had to say, offered up that offensiveness was subjective so he’d keep that in mind as well, and left it at that. In his defense, he was fairly tolerant, and I fully understand his position. He said he’d been to my website and didn’t see anything there that he’d consider offensive (obviously he didn’t look very hard), but in his next breath told me to make sure I kept that part of my life separate from my work life. Like I might be watching actual porn on my work computer during lunch. This resulted in a venting blog post wherein I coined the phrase “cavorting genitals.” I still need to think about trademarking that. J

    In actuality I don’t think it was someone who was truly offended that complained, I think it was an ex-coworker who was disgruntled over losing her job during cutbacks when I kept mine. It was being done purely out of spite and meanness, not because she was a prude.

    But there again, I can’t wrap my mind around why people get so worked up about sex, or nudity, or any of the various forms of both. Unless it’s being shoved in your face against your will, why do you care? No one is forcing you to read what I write or watch Granny Gangbang 4, or even dine at Hooters. It’s not harming anyone, and if it is, well then it’s illegal. That’s when you need to be concerned, and only then.

    I just don’t understand why people get so worked up over the subject of sex. I think a lot of it is insecurity in themselves, but we’ll leave the analyzing for another time. I’m no statistician, but I’d hazard a guess that around 95 percent of the world’s population is having sex, or will at some point in their lives, if they’re lucky or they choose to go that wonderful route. So what makes one sex act any worse than another as long as it’s SSC? And even if it’s not necessarily deemed “safe”, it’s still likely an informed choice made by the participants. Sometimes an ill-advised choice and you wind up in the emergency room with objects stuck in mortifying places (hell no, I’m not speaking from experience), but lesson learned and life goes on.

    Our bodies are designed for creating life and enjoying sex, otherwise women wouldn’t get wet when aroused, men wouldn’t get hard, and we wouldn’t have orgasms. Sex is one of the cheapest and healthiest fun activities you can partake in. It’s a fundamental part of our nature as human beings and when that’s denied or suppressed, bad things happen.

    I guess what I’m saying is, I don’t get the need to differentiate. It’s like using the word “damn” versus “fuck”. In the end they’re both curse words. Or driving five or fifty mph over the posted speed limit. You’re still speeding. Missionary position vaginal or doggie-style anal, lights off or in the middle of a crowded room, IT’S STILL SEX. Follow my twisted logic? There shouldn’t be degrees assigned to things that aren’t illegal. Judging someone for partaking in those things is nothing but hypocritical, period.

    Heather asked me if I wouldn’t mind writing about my experience with being outed and how it made me feel. I’ve gotten over the anger and most of the other emotions I went through with the exception of confusion. For some reason I still can’t wrap my mind around the need some people feel to shame others for their choices — reading, writing, or otherwise. The absence of logic astounds and saddens me, which is why finding and being accepted by this community of like-minded writers and individuals has been a godsend. It dilutes the sadness away to nothing.

    xoxo

    Jenny

     

    Jenny Lyn is a writer of naughty stories and a lover of all things southern, including her tiny hometown in north-central Florida. Wedged between the historic Suwannee River and the beautiful Gulf of Mexico, it’s hot, sticky, and full of mosquitoes, but she wouldn’t have it any other way. When she’s not pecking away on her laptop and arguing with the voices in her head, she’s fishing with her husband or taking her teenage son to see one of their favorite rock bands in concert. She has a book out now, ; a short story in the upcoming erotic anthology, Felt Tips; and many more things in the works. She can be found rambling about everything from Elvis to moonshine at her website: http://www.authorjennylyn.com, and often saying inappropriate things on Twitter .

    Category Guest Post | Tags: , | 7 Comments

  6. Emotional Baggage, Meet the New Guy

    November 13, 2012 by Heather Cole

    I was curled up beside him when he told me about her, a submissive who wanted a discreet affair. With my head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat, I tried not to freak out. I stopped talking, my afterglow dissipating as her presence filled the small spaces between our naked bodies.

    My relationship with the Boy Scout was only four weeks old, and I was still in the stage of giddy excitement where I always wore makeup and he had yet to see me wear the same outfit twice. We had our full disclosure conversations and knew who the other was dating and fucking, and he had already met my girlfriend. The last thing I wanted to do was be demanding or difficult or, God forbid, high maintenance. In the darkened bedroom after our first time as Dominant and slave, no way in hell was I about to give words to my thoughts. That’s when my emotional baggage opened up and I felt those old wounds being pushed. Old arguments, old tensions; they filled my head and I started to panic.

    I confess that I can be competitive and jealous, but I’ve learned to use it as a roadmap to indicate what I really want. When I feel the green eyed monster creeping up behind me, I take a hard look at my interactions. Do I need to ask for more time with my partner? Do I need more communication? If something with my partners gives me a twinge, I’m constantly asking myself why. I have learned the hard way that I can’t compromise honesty or transparency. It can be uncomfortable and exhausting plumbing the depths of my feelings, but I knew coming out of my last poly dynamic that I needed to change some things about myself if I wanted to build healthy, fulfilling relationships in the future.

    I pondered what the Boy Scout had shared with me regarding the sub and tried to define what were remnants of old relationship triggers and what was currently raising my hackles. I even called Nikki to bounce some ideas off her. She observed, “the only time you worry about other women is when they’re submissive.” She was right, dammit. So being the giant organizational whore that I am, I sat down and wrote out my fears. I even numbered them. Seeing it in black and white, it was obvious that there were two main concerns swirling through my brain; I require complete honesty and transparency from myself and my partners and the Dom who may someday own me can only own and collar one slave and that will be me.

    It sucks shit to have to communicate to your sparkly new boyfriend that you have demands, that I prescribe to a poly construct but that doesn’t mean that everything he does is just peachy keen with me. Or that we’re just beginning to explore our D/s dynamic but partnering with another submissive is out of the question for me. It sucks even more to have to bare an ugly wound from a previous relationship to the person you’re attempting to impress with your wonderfulness. I had to say something though. If I was quiet and suffered in silence, I would be choosing a well-worn path to heartbreak. Those damn mile markers are tattooed into my heart, so I hit send and waited to hear back that my fears were outrageous. I waited for the Boy Scout to turn tail and run.

    I’m reading through our ensuing text conversation and am amazed even now. We ended up on the exact same page, and he confirmed that it was OK to not be OK. He would rather have me say I couldn’t do something than gloss over it and have it blow up later. I was so relieved that I may have cried a little bit. (But I was home alone so it didn’t count!) I’m writing this post with a lighter heart, and I can even say the following with a steady voice. I require that if you’re going to be in my bed and in my heart I need absolute honesty and transparency between us and with our partners. And if this slave is going to her knees and gifting You with her submission, she must be the only one wearing Your collar. Wow, I rather like the sound of that.

    Category D/s | Tags: ,, | 12 Comments

  7. What You Need to Read Next

    November 7, 2012 by Heather Cole

    The amazing guest posts this week (more to come Friday… heh, I said “come”) are written by authors contributing to FELT TIPS: the world’s first anthology devoted to office-themed erotica, edited by the famous and talented Tiffany Reisz. It’s set to be released 12/12/12 and pants are already dropping in anticipation. Well, those of you who wear pants.

     

    Don’t fret, Vagina Antics readers! There are still amazing stories to be read in the meantime. This week’s guest authors are published in two different genres: erotic historical romance and horror. Oh yes! We have a veritable cornucopia of books featured here today. Check them out!

     

    Prohibited Passion (A Bandit Creek Historical Erotic Romance) – January 15, 2012

    Ruth wants to escape the boredom of Bandit Creek and the strict expectations of her father, the local pastor. Her life changes the day she meets CeeCee, a world-wise flapper, and an irresistible attraction develops between them. She’ll be disowned and shunned if anyone discovers their prohibited passion, but can they keep their growing affection a secret?

    CeeCee is drawn to Ruth, but things become complicated when her gangster companion disapproves of their liaison. He’s in town to broker a deal with the owner of the local speakeasy, and he’s not above using them to further his own plans. Can CeeCee protect Ruth and their budding relationship?

    As Ruth gets drawn further into their world, she must decide between her familiar life and a new, dangerous path with the woman she loves.

    Read the first chapter here.

    (April, 2012)

    After her father’s funeral, Elly has come back to the family farm to pack up the heirlooms and arrange for the sale of the property. What starts as a lonely night turns into something more when a thunderstorm brings a beautiful stranger to her door…

    A 5,000 word short story.

     

    Find Alyssa or on her website here.

     

     

     

     

    (Fear In Words)

    The debut collection of short horror stories from emerging talent, Jason Darrick. The stories guide the reader on a torturous journey of human pain and suffering, and are best consumed as a whole. Each story may stand alone, bringing the reader five visceral, emotional and cerebral tales.

     

    Stalk Jason and here on his website.

    Here for .

    Category Guest Post | Tags: ,, | No Comments

  8. Morrabrød.* – A Guest Post by Alyssa Linn Palmer

    November 5, 2012 by Heather Cole

    Alyssa Linn Palmer is an author and fellow contributor to FELT TIPS: the world’s first anthology devoted to office theme erotica. (To be released 12/12/12)  As lovely in person (I have this on good authority, although I know her mainly through Twitter) as she is with words, Alyssa was gracious enough to write for us about losing her virginity. To a NORWEGIAN no less. In my mind he’s wearing a fisherman’s sweater and a jaunty red scarf. Hush, now… don’t ruin my daydream. Without further ramblings from moi, here is beautiful Alyssa…

     

    Morrabrød.*

    Probably one of the most remarkable words I learned while traveling. Of course it’s sexual. Same with the delightful ‘bollemus’†. Can you guess where I learned them?

    My first serious boyfriend was Norwegian. Not Norwegian-Canadian, but full proper Norwegian, living in Norway. You wouldn’t think that a girl would have to go so far to find someone, but there you have it. The selection of men (actually, boys–let’s be honest, at 18 years old, that’s what they were) that I knew held no attraction whatsoever: we had little to nothing in common, aside from our location.

    B, as I’ll call him, in the interests of privacy, was everything that the local boys weren’t. Well-read, a writer (I still have a copy of one of his screenplays), well-spoken, slightly older (by a few years), and an obsessive fan of the same music I listened to. An excellent match. We talked online for hours, on the phone for hours more, and going to Norway to see him was the first big overseas trip I ever took.

    It was also when I lost my virginity.

    Trust me to only feel comfortable enough to have sex for the first time when I was halfway around the world from my parents. But I think I was really fortunate. It’s a time I remember with fondness and delight.

    Not the entire evening; some of it is a blur, a haze of pleasure. It was overwhelming, but one of the best experiences of my life. The foreplay went on for some time before we even got into the bedroom. And the orgasm… that’s part of that haze of pleasure I mentioned.

    I got lucky, but I had to go halfway round the world for that luck. I outgrew some of my shyness and became comfortable in my own skin. B was instrumental in expanding my horizons: pretty much anything I suggested he was up for. As Dan Savage says, an ideal partner should be GGG (‘good in bed,’ ‘giving equal time and equal pleasure,’ and ‘game for anything—within reason.’). B was GGG.

    There were a lot of firsts that trip. It was my first time in a non-English speaking foreign country (though lots of Norwegians do speak English very well), my first overseas trip, my first serious partner, and my first experience with real intimacy.

    There were those lazy mornings in bed. Being interrupted mid-playtime when his sister knocked on our door, wondering why we were still in bed at eleven o’clock. (Oops.) Going down to the corner grocery to pick up dinner and eating it while watching Lars von Trier’s ‘Riget’. Walking downtown to spend an hour in Platekompaniet, a well-stocked record shop. Seeing the Nasjonalgalleriet and the room full of Edvard Munch paintings.  Strolling hand-in-hand down Karl Johans gate. Even more hours still drinking cider and eating Turkish food and having long, amazing conversations.

    Thinking about all these firsts has made me nostalgic. Perhaps these experiences why I like older apartment blocks with flats that are a bit worn from the years. I know it’s why I still love the band Seigmen, Hal Hartley films (I especially recommend ‘Amateur’, about a nun who is a nymphomaniac!), and Freia melksjokolade (milk chocolate).

    Being with B, and being physically and emotionally intimate… I was truly grown up. Our relationship changed me, and I can only think it was for the better.

    Plus, I still remember a smattering of Norwegian. A few basics: ‘Un bilet, takk.’ (‘A ticket, thanks.’) ‘Tusen takk.’ (‘Thank you very much.’) ‘Godt Nytt år.’ (‘Happy new year.’) And my favourite: ‘Jeg elsker deg.’ (‘I love you.’)

     

    *  literally, ‘morning-wood’, or early morning erection.

    † ‘bowl mouse’, or the shape of a woman’s mons.

     

     

    Alyssa Linn Palmer is a Canadian writer and freelance editor. She splits her time between a full-time day job, and her part-time loves, writing and editing. Her novella PROHIBITED PASSION and short story BETTING THE FARM are available as ebooks. Her short story VEE will be available in the upcoming charity anthology FELT TIPS in December 2012. She’s currently working on two new projects, one of which is a novel set during the gangster heyday in Chicago in 1925. You can find her online at www.alyssalinnpalmer.com, or on Twitter @alyslinn.

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