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Posts Tagged ‘FELT TIPS’

  1. 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

     

     


  2. 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.


  3. 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.

     


  4. A Guest Post by Jason Darrick

    November 9, 2012 by Nikki Blue

    Jason Darrick 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) Jason is a wicked word slinger, blogger and musician who has been gracious enough to share his tales of international lovin.’ His new works encompass his love of horror, occult, bizarro, fetish and kink fiction and film.  A single father who looks hot in a kilt, Jason divides his time between writing and raising his 3 year-old daughter. In his spare time, he spends a great amount of time and energy devoted to reading, reviewing and his other lifelong passion, pro wrestling. 

    “French is the language of love.” At some point or another, I’m willing to bet that we’ve all heard that. You’ve probably also heard “Italians make great lovers” or “Latinos are muy caliente in the sheets”. I’m also trying to get “words of an author will make you quiver” going, but that’s a topic for another time.

    Language is obviously not universal, in the sense that even the most learned soul couldn’t possibly understand every word spoken on this ball of dirt. Luckily for us, we don’t have to. Lust has a language all its own. Whether it be a simple English “fuck me”, or the slightly less abrupt French of “je te veux”, the language of lust is as diverse as the Kama Sutra, and can be just as sexy.

    I’ve had the pleasure of getting naked with women of French, Mexican, Peruvian, British, Irish and German descent. If you’re keeping score, that means I’ve heard some form of “let’s have sex” in four different languages. How do they compare? Let’s find out.

    My time with a German girl was my first introduction to rough sex. Though she was transplanted and lived not too far away from me, she was very adamant about keeping her linguistic skills up to par. This experience is lowest on my list even though it involves rough sex because the time we spent talking was limited. I wasn’t quite sure what to make of it when she said “fick mich”, which is pronounced pretty much as you imagine it. It was raw and animalistic, just like the sex we shared.

    The English-speaking women were obviously able to tell me exactly what they wanted in a manner that was mutually understandable. I’m going to assume that most of our readers understand English, so I really won’t bore you with details. If you want the details, friend me on FetLife. (Hint, they involve having a woman sing Con Te Partiro by Sarah Brightman to me whilst bound by rope.)

    All things French enamor Alyssa, but I have to be honest, my second favourite experiences have been with French women. Now, the movies I’ve watched have got the stereotypical French woman down. Whether from Quebec or Paris, the women get what they want, often without asking. I mentioned “je te veux”, which is simply “I want you”, but when said with a sultry voice with a proper accent, my clothes disappear. When I got comfortable with my French lovers, I heard things like “je dois te faire” (“I have to do you”), “C’est a toi, Cherie” (“Whatever you like, dear”) and the slightly more vulgar “Je veux goûter votre sperme” (“I want to taste your cum”). I don’t think I’ve ever been more eager to oblige a request than when I heard that.

    For those keeping score, there is one request that I’ve heard that made me almost too weak to fulfill it: “llena mi culo”. I’ll get to the translation in just a bit, but for those unfamiliar, those words are in Spanish. I absolutely adore Latinas, and as I mentioned, am lucky enough to say that I’ve been with both Mexican and Peruvian women. I’ve yet to travel to Spain, but that’s a different topic. Spanish can be a harsh language (don’t piss off Latinas), but it can also be incredibly sensuous (or really dirty if you know what that saying above means.) To be clear, I cannot speak Spanish outside of a polite greeting, but when I’m with a woman who knows what to do with her tongue (linguistically speaking, pervs) I just lose myself. “Te quiero” (“I want you”), “quiero hacer cosas malas” (“I want to do bad things”) and the first quote “llena mi culo” (“fill my ass”) are all examples of things I’ve been fortunate/perverted enough to have had the pleasure of hearing.

    I’m a lucky man, no doubt about it at all. I hope you’ve all learned a little something, depravity is something that I enjoy sharing. I also enjoy sharing the pages of Felt Tips with each of the fine purveyors of smut that you’ve met and will meet. Soft kisses to Heather and Nikki for allowing me to play in their dungeon, and a very warm ass-grab to Alyssa for teaming up with me this week.

    Visit authorjasondarrick.wordpress.com for the latest, or stalk me…


  5. 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.


  6. 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  


  7. 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.


  8. Flogging and Fondue

    July 20, 2012 by Heather Cole

    The best thing about being a contributor to the office supply erotica anthology FELT TIPS is the amazing writers I get to meet. Today I’m chatting with AmyBeth Inverness on her blog, and she asked me all sorts of excellent questions about polyamory and necrophiliac ducks. Yes, there IS such a thing!

    So without further yammering from me, go over there and take a gander. That AmyBeth is a gem. Plus there’s a bonus Star Wars question! SQUEE!

    xoxo Heather


  9. Heather Does Jenny Lyn

    July 18, 2012 by Nikki Blue

    Okay, not really. But as a contributor to FELT TIPS, a steamy anthology of office related erotica which will be released on December 12th, 2012, Heather has been interviewed by the fantastic Jenny Lyn.

    Check it out, y’all!

     

    Hugs,

    Nikki


  10. Vanilla doesn’t have to be the most boring flavor on the ice cream truck

    July 3, 2012 by Heather Cole

    I “met” Jenny Lyn through FELT TIPS, the anthology of erotica (to be released December 2012) that accepted both our short stories. She was the very first writer to respond to my invitation to guest blog, and our ensuing correspondence has sparked some hilarious repartee. She’s witty and fun and leaves the best comments. Plus she declared me “secretive” which is the sister-word of “mysterious” which means THAT I’M PRACTICALLY A VIXEN! Sorry, am I shouting? You should click here and read all about the artichoke gauntlet I threw down at her sexy little feet. 

    Her post about being “vanilla” was originally intended for the FELT TIPS guest blogs beginning in November, but Jenny Lyn is SO funny and so damn charming that Nikki and I couldn’t wait. And I might be falling in love with her. Shhhh…don’t tell her husband. Without further ado, here is the wonderfully talented Jenny Lyn. I promise that after reading her post, you’ll never look at vanilla the same way again.   xo Heather

     

    I bow down to the kinktasticness that is Heather and Nikki, truly I do, but if someone were to raise a flogger to me I’d hide under the bed, not bend over it. I have all the respect in the world for people who are not afraid to let their freak flag fly. Run that puppy up a pole and I will stand shoulder to shoulder with you and give it a hearty salute. Break out the whips and chains and I’m going to politely excuse myself from the party, after the cupcakes are served, of course.

    In case you haven’t caught on yet, I’m classified as vanilla when it comes to sex and all of its sundry forms. But contrary to what the term implies, I do not consider my sex life boring. I have it often and I get off while doing it. Several times. And no, missionary is not the position du jour in my repertoire. The hubby is actually quite fond of reverse cowgirl, followed closely by doggy-style, my personal favorite. Toys! We have a drawer full of things that buzz, and oh how he loves to accessorize. Or maybe I should say terrorize. His favorite phrase is, “Come on, baby, give me one more.” To which I reply, “Well, if you insist.”

    Vanilla does not have to equate to boring. And it fuck sure shouldn’t be considered a derogatory term either. As long as we’re happy and getting’ off then it works for us, and I mean that “us” collectively too, because I know that there are tons of “us’s” out there. Do the vanillas and the kinksters have to stare down their noses at each other? Can’t we all just get along?

    Kink is in the spotlight right now, thanks to a certain book that shall not be named because I do know enough about actual kink to recognize that that book is not really kinky, follow me? Everyone’s trying something, but I bet there’s a hella bunch of those dabblers who are tossing their shiny new nipple clamps in the garbage can. And you know what? That’s fine too. It’s not for everybody. If that were the case there’d be aPleasurePalace on every corner. They’d sell butt plugs at the gas station next to the Slim Jims and Red Bull. But still, a big high-five to those of you out there that are at least trying to mix things up in the bedroom. Sex is important in a relationship. Good sex of any flavor makes that relationship great. Bad sex is a waste of time. It leads to frustration and straying, and eventually, no sex at all. Who wants that?

    Here’s how I knew I was always going to be a vanilla girl. I dated this guy once and the sex was great. Really, really great. Hurray! Orgasms for everyone! And he was 10 years my junior, too. Rawr! So anywhoo, things were trucking along jus’ fine and dandy. Granted, I knew the “relationship” had an expiration date, but it didn’t have anything to do with the sex. Or so I thought. One day I walk into his bedroom and on his dresser he had all of these…items. Rope and cuffs and something that looked like it could have been one of those slip chain collars you see on bulldogs. And I was confident I was the only girl he was fucking. Did I ask him about them? Hell no. I hauled ass out of there. Was that the wrong way to handle it? Of course it was. Miss Cougar turned into a pussy right quick like, and not the good kind. Now I’m not a total asshole. I did ask him about it later and he confessed that he was into it and he was hoping I’d be willing to try some things with him. Um, no. Sorry. My gut instinct was to run, not try the collar on for size. I knew if the sight or thought of being restrained made me uncomfortable then I shouldn’t keep him from finding someone who shared those same interests.

    Now, just because that part of the program turned me off doesn’t mean that I’m not adventurous. When I say adventurous, think location. Can adventurous be considered kinky? Maybe. Okay, probably not but humor my vanilla ass. So I got to thinking about all the places I’ve had relations, and I realized there’d been some doozies. How about I share my top three with you and then you can mock them share some interesting locales of your own?

    #3. On a pallet beneath a building. Not a basement, but an actual three-foot tall crawlspace. It was dark and dirty and smelled funky. Did I care? I should probably be embarrassed to admit this whole disgusting thing in the first place, but no, I didn’t give a crap. The dude was sex on a stick. Seriously, he was one of those guys that “fuck me” oozed from his pores like sweat. When the urge and opportunity struck it was the quickest place we could find. I had sand in places it shouldn’t be, cobwebs in my hair, and a big ol’ smile on my face when it was over.

    #2. On a balcony at the beach. Alright, full disclosure here; I’m terrified of heights. Like palms sweating, mouth dry, panic attack kind of horror. Alcohol helps with that. So does being in a strip club for three hours and getting a private lap dance from a hot girl who kisses you on the mouth like you’re made of chocolate in front of your boyfriend. Mix all those things together and you’re willing to overlook the scary fact that you’re twelve stories up with half of your naked body hanging over a concrete balustrade while he fucks you into next week. I’m very, um, vocal during sexy times when I’ve had a little too much to drink, too. It’s a wonder the police weren’t called. Also, I checked Youtube for weeks after that night just to make sure I wasn’t starring in someone’s amateur porno.

    #1. A cemetery. Ha! Call me vanilla now, bitches. That’s right I said a cemetery. Now before you start throwing rocks at my head or calling me a necrophiliac, we were still in the truck seat, not sprawled across some poor dead soul’s tombstone. But the doors were open. And it was very dark. And creepy as Hell. And hot!

    Now it’s your turn.

     

    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 .