Item the first:
The Big Book of Orgasms is now an audio book! So, if you wanted to hear my story about desiring faggotry, “Baxter’s Boy”, and you missed me reading it in the amazing vibrator museum at Good Vibrations, you can hear the tantalizing Rose Caraway read it in the privacy of your very own home.
Here is a taste:
He was a legend. Baxter. The first to transition in my college town. (At least, the first anyone knew about.) In 1994. Before the generation of FTMs that started T the instant they finished their degrees in women’s studies. Before the genderqueers and the transgressively gendered. Before bois spelled it with an “i” and any one talked about cisgender. Before the trans revolution hit my dykey college town, there was Baxter. Anti-social. Determined to enjoy his faggotry, in a time when it was frowned upon for FTMs to name their desire for cis men…or each other.
Baxter had been a softball butch, dated high femmes, fucked other butches in secret. Then he left town. When he came back, he was a fag. He brought out FTMs and butch boys, teaching them to celebrate their faggotry, to own their desire for pain. He was so good with a cane that he had experienced leatherfags begging to submit to him. Robert had been his boy for over 2 years now. They were a happy pair, rarely going out, except to cruise fresh meat. Boys that were full of need, and bravado, that needed to be shown their place. These boys would emerge from that house with their heads high, their leather immaculate, and a pride of fresh marks on their backs.
His mesmerized me. I ached to be boy enough for him. Except I wasn’t a boy. I wasn’t even butch. This high femme dyke ached to play with queer boys. I jacked off to gay porn. I knelt to suck butch cock, dreaming of alleys and piers, glory holes and bathrooms. I had fantasies about Baxter, because he was a fag…and had dated femmes. Might there still be desire in there, for a femme in seamed stockings, her deep red lips on his cock?
Item the second:
I have posted a snippet from my story “Facing the Dark”, which was printed in Backdraft: Firemen Erotica, on the ERWA blog’s March sexy snippets page. Check out my work and other snippets there. Also, the ebook is still on sale for $1.99, so you can read the whole story for less than the cost of a fancy coffee.
Item the third:
Kathleen Warnock appeared on Dr. Dick’s Erotic Mind podcast, and discussed, among other things, my erotica that has been printed in Best Lesbian Erotica. (My work has appeared in BLE11, BLE12, & BLE 14, all of which she edited.) She also read from my story “What I Need”, which was printed in Best Lesbian Erotica 2014. So, if you missed your chance to hear me read it at The Center for Sex and Culture (which you likely feel bad about not just because of missing me but also not getting to see Jiz Lee do a live performative reading), you can hear the editor herself read from my story.
Here is a taste. As a heads up, it includes descriptions of rough sex, breathplay, and D/s.
I need to be inside you. This minute, no waiting, no preparation. Fuck taking off any clothes, fuck finding an appropriate place, fuck finishing this conversation, I need to pull my dick out of my pants and be inside you immediately. I am ravenous for you, need to have you, selfishly, focused on my urgency, aching to take exactly what I need from you right this second. I need to stake my claim in you, on you, grab what’s mine. Possess you thoroughly, ruthlessly, immediately. And I can, because you are mine. You chose this 2 years ago, and keep choosing it, every day.
I push you to your knees, take out my cock, and ram it down your throat. Fuck the niceties, I need to be deep inside you right away, and I am there, feeling your throat convulse around me, growling, telling you to choke on my cock, to take it for me. I have my hands wrapped in your hair and I fuck your face, watching you work to take my dick, reveling in the sight of tears in your eyes. I take your breath with my cock, your nose stuck in my belly, my dick down your throat, and watch you struggle, your eyes huge, tears rolling down your cheeks. I pull back just a bit to free your breath, and yank up my shirt, as I take your breath again, my cock blocking your throat. I don’t pull up my shirt often, usually fuck with all my clothes on, but I want to feel your tears on my skin. My hunger for that is stronger than my need to be completely covered, at least right in this moment, and I know how you see me.
Item the fourth: