erotica

I know it’s April Fools’ Day but it’s no joke that Rachel Kramer Bussel’s new anthology, Dirty Girls:Erotica for Women is out. I was flipping through my copy and it made me almost seriously late to work.

We’re kicking off the virtual book tour with an excerpt from her story, “Icy Hot:

I was totally aroused, but slightly nervous as well, not that he’d harm me in any way, but I just didn’t know what to expect. What if the limax of our day, so to speak, had already happened as I traced yself with ice before his, and the storekeeper’s, eyes? I needn’t ave worried. “Relax, sit,” he said, guiding me to a sumptuous chair, onveniently placed right in front of his working air conditioner, efore whipping off his shirt. I only got a brief glimpse of his firm, muscular chest before I sank into my new throne and relaxed instantly, orcing any doubts from my mind. He stayed behind me and pushed my head forward slightly so he could massage my neck, his powerful ingers digging into my sweaty skin, pushing deep, their effect rippling through my body. It almost felt like he were touching my pussy, and when his tongue brushed against the back of my neck, I huddered, almost crying out as I gripped the sides of the chair. The hilly air blowing against me, combined with his magic hands and hot tongue, had my nipples hard.

I forgot about the fact that I didn’t really know him at all. Sometimes, in a city of millions of strangers, you just have to take a hance and let your body make the decisions for you, as I’ve learned over the years. And my body was saying yes, please, more, harder. I leaned forward, offering him my skin, and he accepted, lifting my top over my head. I liked having my back to him, a sudden bout of shyness making me want to keep my breasts to myself for a few moments, let him get to know them slowly. He took his time, leaving his hot breath on my neck and shoulder blades, suckling on each earlobe, until I feltonce again like I was melting. Somehow, despite feeling like I was going to die from heatstroke earlier that day, I wanted the heat this man was causing inside me, I wanted him to make me burn with desire.

He kept going, saying little save for grunts, moans and murmurs of approval as he wet my backside with his tongue. “Put your arms on the side of the chair,” he said, and I instinctively did as I was told. Simply responding to his order sent shivers all along my body as I waited to see what he’d do next. What he did was beyond anything I could have imagined. The first shock of it had me clutching the chair arms so tightly I thought I might break them. He’d taken an ice cubeand began rubbing it against my skin—starting at my belly, right above the droopy waistband of my skirt. I squirmed, ticklish, yet also overwhelmingly turned on as trickles of icy water dripped down my stomach while he moved the melting cube against my belly. I didn’t know if he was going to head south or north, nor which one I preferred. My entire body was calling out for this stranger’s touch.

He let the chill settle against the cloth of my skirt, clinging to me, before taking the ice and running it up my stomach, between my breasts, then around each nipple. My hard little buds strained forward; I looked down to see them anxiously trying to get his attention. He was crouched before me, staring at my skin as he made it pucker and goosebump, contract and retreat, reach and react. He kept going with that one piece of ice, which had now become the world’s most powerful sex toy. He ignored my nipples and brought it up to my neck, then along the edges of my face, chilled streams of water trickling down my body. He rubbed the cube over my brow, then down my nose. My lips parted into an automatic O, my mind forming an image of his cock as I did so, but it wasn’t his cock he fed me at that moment. He pushed the ice, along with two of his salty, sweaty fingers, between my lips, and I closed them, sucking hard. With each swallow, I tried to pull him in tighter. With the ice lodged against the roof of my mouth, I felt my pussy tighten as well.

She’s also got a blog for the book, where you can read more about the contributors. Happy one handed reading, sweeties.

Tagged as: sex, wordpress