Reminder: reading at Pre-Folsom Perverts Put Out in SF tomorrow!

This is a friendly reminder that I will be reading my erotica (which I write under the nom de plume Xan West) at the Pre-Folsom Perverts Put Out, in San Francisco.

When: September 28, 2013. Doors open at 7pm. Reading starts at 8pm.

Where: The Center for Sex and Culture in SF. 1349 Mission St. between 9th and 10th

What: Perverts Put Out! is San Francisco’s long-running pansexual performance series. Join a sexy celebration of leather and lust at Perverts Put Out!’s annual pre-Folsom-Fair show, with performers including Jen Cross, Greta Christina, Phillip Huang, Steven Schwartz, horehound stillpoint, Naamen Tilahun, Xan West, and Mollena Williams, with your hosts Simon Sheppard and Dr. Carol Queen.

Cost: $10-25 sliding scale

I will be reading an abridged version of my story “Strong”, which was printed in Say Please: Lesbian BDSM Erotica.

Reviewers have this to say about “Strong”:

  • “a tribute to bottoms, to what we give to our tops, to what it takes to do what we do…Xan West, more than anyone I’ve ever read, intrinsically gets what I do at my core, as a femme and as a bottom.” Helena Swann on Cuntext
  • “The caning scene within this story literally made my thighs ache, and not just in sympathy.” –Angel Propps at Lambda Literary Reviews
  • “some of the most boundary breaking erotica I’ve heard in a while” —Kelli Dunham

Here is an excerpt from the beginning of my story, “Strong“, that appears in Say Please: Lesbian BDSM Erotica (as a heads up, this excerpt contains oral sex, gendered D/s, and play with misogyny)

For both of us, gender is both complex identity and elaborate sex toy.  But not just that.  It is not easy to grow up breaking the gender rules, to live lives visibly nonconforming.  Gender is a dangerous and delicious edge in which we play, knowing that we may inadvertently step on the minefields of our gendered histories and present struggles.  Part of the thrill is that danger. We push gender to it’s own edges, play its sharpness against our throats, fear in our mouths, ache in our guts, building armor against becoming what we fear.

Gender is the core. It drives our relationship.  As a transgender butch, playing with gender is an edgy and necessary thing.  For my genderqueer submissive, who’s gender ebbs and flows in life and in play, the conscious choice to play with gender confirms self, breaks boundaries, allows catharsis.  My submissive is both my girl and my boy.  Tonight she was going to be one and then the other. 

When she is my girl, I always start by fucking her throat.  It is the most personal hole, and I claim her there first, make sure she knows she is helpless to stop me.  Her job is to open to me, give to me, feed me with her eyes. I begin by placing the cuffs on her wrists, lock them together, and force her to her knees.  My hands grip her hair, and I force her mouth onto my cock.  This is how we start, every time.

Beginning this way every time gives us both a way to go deeper into ourselves, to sink into what we are doing, find ground for the genders we are playing in. My cock in her throat honors how she wants to do girlness, how much we both want her to be open and vulnerable and raw. Her eyes looking up at me and her mouth wrapped round my dick reflect back the masculinity I want to do with her, how much we want me to be cruel and invasive and dominant. I need to see that she wants this, all the way through, and she knows how much I run on adrenaline when we play this way, how it reaches into my core and twists.

I need to start fast, and hard, almost dare myself into it, because this scares the shit out of me, and that’s the only way to get over the mountain of fear that builds in me as I know we are going there. The more fear there is the rougher and faster I need it. I was especially rough that night, ignoring the gagging, groaning as I forced tears from her eyes.

“That’s right, choke on my cock,” I said gruffly.

There was rushing in my ears as I watched her choke, tears streaming down her cheeks, her eyes locked on mine, soft, reassuring.  I rammed myself into her, cracking her open, thrusting my way inside.  I got taller as I fucked her face, wrenching her hair, relentless.  I could tell when she started to float, weightless, rapt.  I pulled out of her mouth, looking coldly down at her as she took ragged sobbing breaths and offered herself to me.

In other erotica-related news, my piece “Baxter’s Boy” is included in The Big Book of Orgasms, which is coming out mid-October, and can be pre-ordered on Amazon right now. To celebrate the release of this book, I will be reading (along with fellow authors like B.D. Swain and Virgie Tovar, and the editor Rachel Kramer Bussel) at Good Vibrations on Polk Street in SF on November 6th.

I hope you can include Perverts Put Out as part of your Folsom celebrations.


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