Posts Tagged ‘sex’

Peep Show author interview with Kissa Starling

October 29, 2009

How did you come up with the idea for your story “Busted” in Peep Show?

I have a wild imagination and I constantly think up story plots. Public displays of affection are sexy hot and I couldn’t resist the urge to submit something for this anthology. The back row of a deep, dark movie theater or hotel by the hour? The only difference I see is the audience and I loved writing about how both sides would react to blatant, in your face, public sexual interactions.

Did the story change as you were writing it from your original conception of it?

I had most of the plot mapped out in my head before I ever tarted typing. I’m sure I embellished once the words transferred to the computer screen but my original thoughts stayed pretty much intact.

What’s your favorite line or paragraph from your story?

Lydia squirmed around on the seat, trying to make sure no bare skin touched the fabric. They weren’t the first to play like this and they certainly wouldn’t be the last. The thought of what might be on the stadium seats made her shudder. I like this look into Lydia’s personality. She’s getting ready to “perform” in front of an audience full of movie watchers but she takes the time to think of other exhibitionists that came there before her. The shudder is actually kind of funny considering she’s preparing to do something similar to the crushed-velvet, theater seats.

Is your Peep Show story similar to or different from your usual erotic writing style?

I believe that readers will find this to be very similar to my usual erotic writing. A lot of my writing includes elements from the BDSM lifestyle. Voyeurism and exhibitionism are both rampant in dungeons all over the world where people practice the lifestyle so this wasn’t a huge stretch for me.

What do you think is sexy about exhibitionism and/or voyeurism?

Exhibitionism is the freeing of ones mind from the preconceived sexual moral notions most of us are brought up with. There’s nothing more exciting than looking up to find someone sharing a moment with you. Voyeurism is the flip side. Anyone who’s watched an X-rated movie or spied on another couple’s intimate moment is labeled a voyeur but what about those ‘people watchers’ out there? I know a lot of people who go to the mall or out to dinner with the sole purpose of ‘people watching.’ It’s a fun activity; I’ve done it myself. If those same people we love watching so much began kissing, groping or rubbing would we look away? Um, I can speak only for myself but of course not! Watching others gain pleasure from one another can bring the watcher his or her own pleasure and nothing is sexier than self pleasure.

If you care to answer, are you more of a voyeur, exhibitionist, or neither?

I definitely lean toward the exhibitionist end of the spectrum. I’m more of a get in the action type than a watcher but I can see the fun on both sides.

Do you think there’s something inherently exhibitionistic about writing, especially writing erotica?

There just may be. I mean it’s not like an author can deny knowing about certain sexual ideas or proclivities if he or she writes about them. We authors insert a little part of ourselves into every story we create. Writing is often a form of anonymous exhibitionism and it can be truly titillating!

What are you working on next?

I am currently working on the fourth book in the Lifestyle Series for Red Rose Publishing. Chalan’s Story is about a trainer and his pony. This is the first time I’ve written about the interesting fetish of pony play and I’ve learned so many things already. I hope to finish and submit it one before the end of the year.

I’m so glad to be a part of this anthology. Working with Cleis Press, and the famous Rachel Kramer Bussel, is fantastic! Learn more about me at www.kissastarling.com

Kissa Starling “Busted” (www.kissastarling.com) is a woman of many words. Her stories range from sweet to sizzling and everything in between. What started as a few words written in a diary has turned into a full-fledged writing career. She spends time each and every day dreaming up plots, researching settings, and dreaming up characters.

Below is an excerpt from “Busted” by Kissa Starling. To read the whole story, check out Peep Show: Erotic Tales of Voyeurs and Exhibitionists. Read excerpts from all 18 stories in Peep Show by clicking here.

“What are you wearing?” My man is such a perv. No wonder we get along so well.

“Everything that you requested. Why don’t you let me drive and then you can see what I’m wearing in person?” She laughed into the phone but Andy stayed silent. At times she wondered what she was doing with such a serious lover, but then she remembered the way he made her feel when he…

“Lydia. Are you there?”

“Yes, I’m here.” She squinted against the glare of the car traveling opposite her.

“Tell me what you’re wearing.” Lydia swerved to the right to avoid going over the yellow line.

“A short skirt…” So short that my ass peeks out.

“No panties, right?”

“Of course not. My black thin silk shirt…”

“No bra, right?” Why can’t I ever finish a sentence?

“No, Andy, no bra. Listen I have to drive.”

“Don’t hang up that phone.” Silence. “Tell me about your bush.”

“Again, just as you like it. I haven’t shaved in weeks.” Ten million men like bare pussy and I get an Indian guy who loves hair!

“Mmm. I can’t wait till you get here. You have me hot already. Now get off of that phone. You shouldn’t be talking and driving at the same time.” Just thinking of the night ahead spurred tingles throughout her body.

“Really? Well than maybe you shouldn’t be calling me. See you soon.”

Great review of Peep Show by Lola at Hedo Online

October 28, 2009

Lola over at Hedo Online posted a review of Peep Show: Erotic Tales of Voyeurs and Exhibitionists.

Here’s part of what she wrote:

The beauty of Peep Show is that Rachel- the editor, found the perfect formula that resulted in a book filled with erotic stories that literally anyone can relate to. There is indeed, something for everybody. From stories about a husband watching his beautiful wife sleep, the thrill of having sex in a hotel window in Germany, a worker’s fantasy made reality in the Japanese ‘water trade’, to a virgin witch pushing her own limits, Peep Show covers a vast spectrum of sexually infused tales. The authors featured are both men and women. With all stories unique and independent of each other. I’ll admit there were times I became flush with excitement and had to tame my inner sex kitten a few of the stories evoked. Then other stories had me wanting to cuddle up with my hubby in a peaceful loving embrace.

Thanks, Lola! So glad you liked it…go to Hedo Online to read the rest.

Peep Show author interview with Jennifer Peters

October 23, 2009


Jennifer Peters

How did you come up with the idea for your story, “People in Glass Hotels,” in Peep Show?

Like my main character in “People in Glass Hotels,” I got the idea by watching Samantha Brown’s Passport to Europe on The Travel Channel. I was planning a trip to Germany—which I have yet to take—and the host of the show was visiting Berlin. The hotel she stayed in, the Velvet Hotel, had floor-to-ceiling windows, and the first thing I thought when I saw it was, “Wow, that’s an exhibitionist’s dream!”

Did the story change as you were writing it from your original conception of it?

Aside from the hotel, I didn’t really have a vision for the story beforehand. When I sat down to write it, I just started typing and let it go wherever it needed. By the time I reached the end, the only thing I knew had happened was that my couple had had sex in the hotel window; I had to go back and read it to find out the finer details of the story.

What’s your favorite line or paragraph from your story?

“Other times, I’d sit down at the computer with my vibrator and let it buzz deep inside my aching cunt while I looked at the hotel’s website, the exterior photos exciting me more than any of the real porn my husband liked to bring home.”

Is your Peep Show story similar to or different from your usual erotic writing style?

Since I spend most of my time writing and editing for adult magazines, my story for Peep Show was much less porny than my usual style.

What do you think is sexy about exhibitionism and/or voyeurism?

There’s something innately erotic about watching and being watched. Not just during intimate moments, but during even the most mundane minutes. Having someone look on as you eat lunch, read a book, pay for a purchase, it makes you wonder what they’re thinking and if those thoughts are dirty. And as the watcher, it’s easy to find ways to eroticize your subject’s every move. Especially if you don’t know the person, it’s exciting to imagine them in a new situation—or have them imagining you in that same position.

If you care to answer, are you more of a voyeur, exhibitionist, or neither? Do you think there’s something inherently exhibitionistic about writing, especially writing erotica?

I’m definitely more of a voyeur, but not just in the erotic sense; I’m a big fan of people-watching, and I love trying to guess who people are, what they do, where they’re going.

Writing erotica can be exhibitionistic if you let it, but for the most part my writing is entirely fictional—or based on someone else—so it doesn’t feel like exhibitionism. But on the occasion that there is a tinge of truth in my stories, I do feel incredibly exposed and can’t help looking around wondering if my editors know that a part of me is in the piece.

What are you working on next?

Most of my writing time is devoted to the family of Penthouse magazines and websites, where I’ve been for almost four years. Outside of that, I have no idea what’s going to happen next.

Hear Jennifer Peters read from “People in Glass Hotels” on Thursday, November 19th, 8-10 pm at In The Flesh Reading Series, Happy Ending Lounge, 302 Broome Street, NYC. Free, 21+, with 300 free cupcakes, click here for full details.

Below is an excerpt from “People in Glass Hotels” by Jennifer Peters. To read the whole story, check out Peep Show: Erotic Tales of Voyeurs and Exhibitionists. Read excerpts from all 18 stories in Peep Show by clicking here.

Felix made the next move, and before I could look away from the glass, he’d pushed me up against it. My breasts were flattened against the cool, smooth surface, and when I looked down, I could see several people looking back up at meæor at least I told myself they were all looking at me; it was hard to tell which window had captured their attention, and I was a bit distracted. I sighed as I stared down at them, and then Felix was pressing his body against mine, his stiff dick nestling between my asscheeks as he kissed my neck and ran his hands up and down my body, eventually wrapping his arms around me and letting his hands wander down toward my pussy. When a finger brushed my wet pussy lips, I moaned and pressed my forehead against the window, my eyes closed tight. When I opened them, however, there were still people staring up at me. And this time I was sure it was me they were watching, because the handful of people from a minute earlier were still there and were now joined by others, some of them pointing up at the window.

“They’re watching us,” I breathlessly told Felix, and he mumbled something in my ear that sounded a lot like, “No, they’re watching you,” though his voice was so rough with passion that it was hard to make out his exact words.

Read part of shower sex story “Clean and Dirty” by Donna George Storey

October 20, 2009

Okay, so “shower sex” may be overstating it…well, you have to read the story to find out!

See Fleshbot’s Peep Show excerpt from “Clean and Pretty,” about a different kind of peep show, set in Japan, by Donna George Storey.

Kindle edition of Peep Show: Erotic Tales of Voyeurs and Exhibitionists

October 10, 2009

Coming soon to Kindle…

“Visually Aroused” by Angela Caperton – dedicated to Bettie Page

October 9, 2009

Visually Aroused
by Angela Caperton

Context is everything. I happen to think voyeurism and exhibitionism are hotter when they are forbidden.

In today’s world, exposed skin is easy to find. The most innocent Google image search produces pictures that would have blown the mind of the Marquis de Sade. It’s easy to forget just how short a time ago that even a glimpse of printed female pubic hair was enough to arouse the professional interest of policemen and prosecutors.

I set my story “Calendar Girl” (published in Peep Show) in the 1950s, because I wanted to play with the contrast between my heroine’s unexpressed sexuality and the expectations of that more repressed age. So I started with the premise that Desi finds a pin-up calendar with imperfect airbrushing, that the sight of a girl like herself, completely exposed and enjoying it, triggers her own desire to be seen and admired by men. I hope that readers find the resulting story hot!

The 1950s are such a decade of contrasts. Mainstream culture was Ozzie and Harriet, postwar prosperity and unthinking conformity, but popular culture boiled and sizzled with repressed heat – rock and roll, passion pit drive-ins, Beatnik orgies of free thought and free love. Pin-up art was lowbrow culture, although Playboy worked tirelessly to make sex sophisticated. In the rearview mirror though, we have come to appreciate the talent of photographers like Bunny Yeager and the entrepreneurial fervor of guys like Irving Klaw, who helped make the decade sexier and more fun.

I based the photo shoot in my story on sketchy accounts of 50s era “camera clubs,” where amateur models stripped for eager photographers, feeding fantasies both private and public, and I told it through the model’s viewpoint because I wanted to explore the feelings of liberation and power that can come from a woman brave enough to bare herself on her own terms with men who want to share the thrill of her exposure.

Not long after I submitted this story for consideration in Peep Show, I was saddened to read about the death of Bettie Page. While I didn’t have Bettie in mind when I was writing “Calendar Girl”, there is no doubt that she was the queen of pin-up girls. So much has been written about her and what her iconic image meant to a generation, that I really can’t add anything to the discussion except to say that I admired her courage and her astonishing beauty, and that “Calendar Girl” should rightfully be dedicated to her.

Born in Virginia and later raised on a sailboat, Angela Caperton (”Calendar Girl”) has traveled extensively and appreciates the world in all its forms. Her erotic fantasy, Woman of the Mountain, won the 2008 Eppie for Best Erotica, and she has short stories in Lust at First Bite and Girls on Top.

Read “Calendar Girl” by Angela Caperton in the new anthology Peep Show: Tales of Voyeurs and Exhibitionists. An excerpt is below.

You can purchase Peep Show at your local bookstore or:

Amazon

B&N

Powells

from “Calendar Girl”
by Angela Caperton

Charlie appeared like a genie to take the roses and she stood and walked to the screen, her breath faster and the line between her legs sodden and dripping. Desi paused beside the screen, looking at the lurid curtains and the sofa, like something in a sultan’s harem. She thought of the Arabian Nights and the woman who kept herself alive by telling stories, by enchanting a man with her talents.

She thought of April and her nipples tightened.

She shed her blouse, camisole and bra without hesitation, and before she put the blouse back on, she looked at the costumes on hangers behind the screen. Some of the shining fantasies were no bigger than her hand, and her nipples grew as hard as marbles as she imagined herself in glossy black and white, shining patches of satin. She stole a glimpse of herself in the mirror, unable to look directly at her image, the rising curves with dark rigid tips, and her face that of the woman in Bobby’s photos.

She slipped on the sheer blouse and buttoned it to the place Mr. Bentley had asked for, aware of every place the linen touched her, its cling no more than mist, but intense as a warm finger. She stepped from behind the screen, her blood pulsing in her ears, her throat, and her treasure. Almost giddy, she walked toward the men and their cameras.

Peeps (excerpts) of the brand-new erotica book Peep Show

October 8, 2009

Below you will find sexy peeps at the 18 stories from Peep Show: Erotic Tales of Voyeurs and Exhibitionists, which will be in bookstores any day now from Cleis Press. I just got my copies today and it’s a gorgeous, gorgeous book. I hope you’ll enjoy it and wanted to give you a chance to see what’s inside it.

Here’s what some very smart ladies have said about it:

Peep Show takes you through the looking glass and into an erotic world of wonder where looking and being looked at creates hot encounters of the highest order.”
Audacia Ray, author of Naked on the Internet

“”Rachel Kramer Bussel has, once again, assembled a top-flight collection. This naughty gem will appeal to both the connoisseur and the curious reader who just wants a peek.”
Lily Burana, author of Strip City: A Stripper’s Farewell Journey Across America

Introduction: Hungry Eyes and Sensual Show-Offs (click here to read the introduction)

Showtime by Susan St. Aubin
Clean and Pretty by Donna George Storey
Superior by Monica Shores
People in Glass Hotels by Jennifer Peters
Indecent by Lolita Lopez
Ownership by Craig J. Sorensen
Audience Participation by Elizabeth Coldwell
Now You See Her by Andrea Dale
Watcher in the Shadows by Cheyenne Blue
Glass by Nobilis Reed
Sleeping Beauty by Malcolm Ross
The Theory of Orchids by L. A. Mistral
Missing Michael by M. March
Busted by Kissa Starling
Satisfaction Guaranteed by Sommer Marsden
Rosse Buurt by Geneva King
I’ve Only Got Eyes for You by Rachel Kramer Bussel
Calendar Girl by Angela Caperton

Showtime
by Susan St. Aubin

Whenever Lesley talks about him, I have to restrain myself or I’ll drool into my latte or ice-cream soda or whatever we’ve decided to go out for on our afternoon breaks. She’s perverse, preferring ice cream in winter, saving hot drinks for summer. That’s one of the things I like about her.

“Ellie, he wears these bike shorts,” she says in a voice much tighter than I imagine his pants are. “You can see every bulge, like a dancer, except, well…” She moves her hands down as if she’s sculpting his body. “More unrestrained. He doesn’t wear a jockstrap, or underwear, just the tights. Short ones, down to about midthigh, with his muscles bulging over.” Her tongue clicks with disapproval. “He waltzes out to his exercise bike, which is right in front of his picture window, which faces mine. If I have the lights on, he knows I can see him, but he ignores me. He gets on slowly, shifting himself like guys do so his things won’t get caught between him and the seat, settles himself down and just pedals away, going nowhere. Sometimes he’s facing me, coming right at me, other times his back is to me so I can see his buttcheeks going up and down. It’s an invasion of my privacy, that’s what it is.”

She digs her spoon into her glass and scrapes out the last bit of ice cream, shoving it into her mouth.

I look down at the chocolate sauce pooled in the bottom of my glass, thinking how I wouldn’t mind an invasion like that.

“You don’t know how it makes me feel,” she says. “He’s like an intruder breaking into my house. Our windows are so close we might as well be in the same room.”

“Have you tried looking away?”

“Our windows face each other over a small courtyard. He’s so close I can practically hear him breathe. How could I not look?”

Clean and Pretty
by Donna George Storey

Is Hiro watching now?

My nipples tingle, and I feel a gush of wetness between my thighs. It’s not water, no, and it’s not for the man jerking off outside the stall. It’s for Hiro gazing at me through the hidden surveillance camera.

I squeeze out more soap, rub it over my breasts and push them together as if I’m wearing some obscene bargirl’s bustier. It’s time to move on to the “Breast Soap Show.” I lean forward and press my upper body against the glass. In spite of the heat and steam, the wall itself is cool. Yet, as I rub my nipples against it, the mild sting sends sharper pangs of arousal to my cunt. I shake my shoulders slowly, sliding myself along the hard, slick surface. This is no act. I am genuinely turned on.

And Hiro? Does he feel that chilly fire in his body, too?

A face emerges from the steam, inches from the glass, eyes fixed and bulging. I shimmy faster. A tongue darts out, desperately flicking at the glass. I moan. Hiro’s tongue would be just like this, cool and unyielding. He’s a cool man in every sense of the word. He never touches his girls, he told me. Mixing work and pleasure dirties things.
But I want to be dirty. I want to be touched.

Superior
by Monica Shores

“Be quiet.” I said. Your jaw was clenched and your eyes were flashing. This was the most you’d ever said to me at one time. My pussy was throbbing because of your desperation. Just seeing your nostrils flare was enough to keep me going. “Take off your pants.”

You looked at me, your face falling as distress dissolved into something like fear. I watched the crotch of your pants swell steadily and again you made a move, this time as if to shield your hard-on from view. Your cheeks were a hot red, and I noticed that the hair against your forehead and temples was curled wet with sweat.

“I won’t say it again. Your boxers, too.”

You pulled off your shoes and fumbled with your belt until your trousers were dropped and kicked to the side. Under your shirttails, your cock was hard and drowsing out toward me, sleek and long. It had a sharp upward curve and a prominent head with a shiny, defined ridge. I wanted to put my mouth on it, but instead I said:

“Start jerking it for me.”

People in Glass Hotels
by Jennifer Peters

Felix made the next move, and before I could look away from the glass, he’d pushed me up against it. My breasts were flattened against the cool, smooth surface, and when I looked down, I could see several people looking back up at meæor at least I told myself they were all looking at me; it was hard to tell which window had captured their attention, and I was a bit distracted. I sighed as I stared down at them, and then Felix was pressing his body against mine, his stiff dick nestling between my asscheeks as he kissed my neck and ran his hands up and down my body, eventually wrapping his arms around me and letting his hands wander down toward my pussy. When a finger brushed my wet pussy lips, I moaned and pressed my forehead against the window, my eyes closed tight. When I opened them, however, there were still people staring up at me. And this time I was sure it was me they were watching, because the handful of people from a minute earlier were still there and were now joined by others, some of them pointing up at the window.

“They’re watching us,” I breathlessly told Felix, and he mumbled something in my ear that sounded a lot like, “No, they’re watching you,” though his voice was so rough with passion that it was hard to make out his exact words.

Indecent
by Lolita Lopez

Hips sensually swinging, Trini lowered herself into a wide-legged crouch and then slowly rose to full stature. She flung her top hat into the crowd before carefully turning and shaking her tight ass for the crowd’s delight. Her fingers worked the loose knot of her garish yellow and turquoise tie. Facing the crowd again, she let the tie flutter toward the ground. Trini grasped the exaggerated lapels of her jacket and spread the fabric wide, showing off her glittery gold push-up bra and tan tummy. The jacket sleeves whisked down her arms. She twirled the jacket overhead before launching it into the crowd.

Like a belly dancer, she slowly gyrated while running her palms over the full curves of her breasts and along the gentle slope of her rib cage. Her fingers danced across her belly and hooked into the sides of her skimpy black shorts. With a forceful tug, Trini broke the Velcro side seams and crotch. Excited cheers and whistles resounded. A group of frat boys fought over the fabric scraps raining down upon them.

Trini strutted confidently along the ledge, showing off her gleaming, toned legs and the shockingly scant swatch of gold material covering her immaculately waxed sex. A cool breeze buffeted her body, highlighting the dampness of the material pressed up against her cunt and hidden between the cheeks of her ass. Her body hummed with arousal, feeding off the vibrant energy of the crowd. The hardened peaks of her breasts poked against the thin material constraining them. Trini wanted nothing more than to slip her fingers beneath her G-string and strum her stiff clit.

Ownership
by Craig J. Sorensen

Troy scooted closer to Kendall and handed the other beer to her.

Her eyes were the deep slate color of storm clouds when a small shaft of sunlight had managed to peek through. Her cheeks were bright red with a bit too much blush and her slim lips were slivers of vermilion. Soft blue eye shadow shimmered like mica in a cool riverbed.

Kendall’s body language remained shy, but her full hip pressed his. The aroma of mint and beer crossed the tiny divide between their faces. She accepted Troy’s first, soft kiss. He moved his lips slowly side to side against hers, and her mouth finally opened a little. His tongue could barely fit in. The tip of her tongue was rough and tasted of malt and honey. She received the kiss awkwardly but a deep moan promised great passion. Troy’s cock was hard as a girder. He kissed along her full cheek then gently licked her ear. She moaned, and her soft curves conformed to his skinny frame like a fitted sheath to a balanced blade.

Kendall pushed him gently away and took another drink. He nuzzled her neck until another breathy sigh issued from her chest. Troy unbuttoned the top button of her blouse. Her hand started to rise as if to push him away again, but relaxed and stroked his forearm as he nuzzled again and moved down the blouse. It fell open. Troy pulled off his T-shirt. Kendall combed his chest hairs with her fingers while he untucked her blouse and peeled it from her shoulders. “Umm, just because we took off our shirts—I mean, I don’t want you to think we’re going to—” Kendall covered her bra with one arm.

“Oh, sure, sure.” Troy smiled reassuringly. His cock pushed at his zipper like a lifer on the verge of a prison break. Troy was a skilled fisherman, and knew the essential value of patience.

Audience Participation
by Elizabeth Coldwell

Tony had pressed his companion up against the wall and was kissing her while he tugged her sweater out of her skirt.

“They’re not,” I said, unable to mesh my knowledge of my straight-laced, work-obsessed–and, most importantly, very married-æboss with what I was seeing. “They can’t be!”

“Looks to me like they are,” Chris replied. He was behind me now, staring at the PC over my shoulder, and his body was tight against mine, a hard, unmistakable lump in his jeans digging into the cheek of my bum.

We shouldn’t be looking at this, I told myself, not if things were going to go as far as I suspected. Indeed, my hand actually snaked out toward the mouse, ready to break the Internet connection. And then I stopped, weighing the morality of the situation. Which was worse–having sneaky sex with someone who definitely wasn’t your wife, or secretly watching that sex take place? From the rapt expression on Chris’s face, reflected in the computer monitor, I knew he was equally intrigued by what was about to happen.

On-screen, Denise’s sweater had come off. She had big breasts, confined in a plain white bra, and Tony had his head between them and was nuzzling into her cleavage. My own nipples tingled and pressed against the fabric of my thin cotton top, suddenly aching for the same treatment hers were clearly getting. Almost unconsciously, I pushed my rump back against Chris’s groin, grinding myself against his erection.

Now You See Her
by Andrea Dale

“Her main thing is exhibitionism. She likes to show off, likes to show off her partners. Likes to humiliate them a little bit, but not in a mean way.” I was having trouble thinking, between the aftereffects of the martinis and Shane’s skillful hands making my blood rush from my brain to pool in my groin. “Am I making any sense?”
“Oh, yes,” he said. “You definitely are. Keep talking.”

“Don’t want to,” I said, reaching for him.

He braceleted my wrist with his fingers, pulled me away. “Yes,” he said. “You’re enjoying this just as much as I am.”

I sighed, tried to focus through the haze of pleasure. “She likes to have sex in front of mirrors, to have her girlfriends watch themselves as they come. Or in a semipublic place, where someone might see. In front of a window. Nothing turns her on more than knowing her girlfriend is walking next to her in a short skirt and no panties when it’s breezy. She won’t let them reach down to catch the skirt when it fluffs up…”

Watcher in the Shadows
by Cheyenne Blue

“Please don’t.”

He paused, unsure if he’d imagined the words.

“Please don’t pull back the curtain.”

He waited, one hand on the dusty cloth. “So, I should let you spy on me?”

“I’m not spying. Not exactly. I just don’t want you to see me.” The voice was low, the gender blurred by the husky words.

“That’s spying in my book.”

The pause stretched. Billy imagined his unseen watcher in the shadows; mortified maybe, embarrassed at having been caught. But when the intruder spoke again, the voice was challenging. “So, say something. Do you like the idea of being watched? Do you like the thought of me watching your body, watching you take your clothes off? Peering to see if–”

“Enough.” Billy yanked hard on the curtain, and a cloud of dust and hairs billowed out. “Tell my why I shouldn’t call security?”

“But you haven’t. How long now? Five minutes? Ten? You’re still here, falling into your whiskey with your makeup smeared across your face and I’m still here, watching you.”

Glass
by Nobilis Reed

The glass dildo, this time. Yes, definitely the glass. Mira unlocked the bottom drawer and selected the hard transparent shape from the jumble of torpedoes and plastic phalluses and laid it on the desk in front of her.

A gentle curve, a pleasant shade of blue, a few tiny bubbles trapped inside: it could almost pass for a work of art. She smiled at the thought of just leaving it on the shelf alongside the walkie-talkie and the heavy ring of keys. Would anyone say anything? She doubted it.

The couple on her monitor stopped kissing and pulled at each other’s clothes. Mira looked up. It wouldn’t be long now, but where was that damned lube? Bit by bit, their bodies came into view. They were beautiful, both of them. Every Friday they showed up, performed their pas de deux, and left again. She had invented a hundred stories to explain their presence in the depths of the darkened parking garage. Not for the first time, she thanked the nameless engineer who’d invented night-vision video cameras.
She leaned back in her chair, pulled open two buttons of her blouse, and moved one hand into the gap.

Sleeping Beauty
by Malcolm Ross

I knelt down, my dick rising in my boxers as I peered at the crack of her ass. I’d been inside her there a few times over the years–neither of us was all that into anal sex–but had never really gotten up close and personal. I had to take my cock out of my shorts then because it was getting painful to wait. She’d never know the difference, right? Oh, I should add that Inez is a very heavy sleeper. She’s slept through arguments, sirens, meals, even an earthquake once. Like everything else in her life, when she throws herself into something, she throws herself 100 percent. My ex before her, Tracy, she of the T-shirt as sleepwear, had been such a light sleeper that every little noise woke her, and consequently, me as well. But my Inez had to be shaken awake or blasted into the day by her blaring alarm, which she’d set to sound like a barking dog, a noise I’d never fully gotten used to.

So I knew she wouldn’t wake up suddenly and find me beating off. And if she did, what harm was there in what I was doing? She was my wife, not some stranger, and I knew she masturbated in the shower, while she knew I usually got myself off at night if we didn’t wind up fooling around. It was never an issue for us, so I only had the mildest pang of guilt as I pumped my cock while letting my eyes dance over her sleeping form. Her body rose high and fell, and twice she let a few mumbled words of Spanish slip out. Her parents are Chilean immigrants; she grew up speaking both Spanish and English. Though she considers English her first language, after a few drinks or when she’s very tired, she sometimes reverts to Spanish; she apparently did the same when she was asleep.

The Theory of Orchids
by L. A. Mistral


Now, on the Metro, she glanced up for a moment. Two or three people, two men and one woman, she recalled, were still staring at her. Polite, to be sure, they glanced down when their eyes met. The strange thing was that the more they stared the more excited she became. Her heart quickened its pace and her breath seemed to bang out of her breast. Then Gina looked down at her skirt. The hem had caught on a rivet in the seat and raised way up her thighs. Her skirt had risen so high that the crotch of her evening blue panties was clearly visible, bulging with the high mound of her hyacinth pussy. She blushed immediately.

Then she did something totally out of character. She slumped down in her seat and spread her legs even farther apart. Her panties were so wet, they were translucent, and her pussy blossomed like an orchid big as the moon between her legs. She felt shamed all right, but that wasn’t all she felt. She was so aroused, her whole body hummed. She also felt strangely strong, vibrant. She unfastened the skirt in a leisurely way and smoothed it down. She almost felt let down, disappointed, except that she liked it way too much. Except that her panties were soaking wet.

It wasn’t even as if they were leering. Their gazes seemed more appreciative than exploitive. They didn’t want to control her. They just wanted to cherish her.
It was the looking that aroused her. She couldn’t deny the shame she felt at exposing herself, but she wouldn’t deny the euphoria either. Maybe we shy girls are simmering inside, she thought. She felt like she had accidentally lost her virginity. She was stepping into a new country.

Missing Michael
by M. March

I’ve just gotten a monster erection.

It happened when Gym Boy took off his shirt. I got this terrible craving to pinch his hard, red nipples and then my dick got huge, swollen beyond belief. I was scared someone would notice it, so I went into the bathroom to take care of myself.
And now as I touch my cock, I can’t help but see Gym Boy in swimming trunks. He is kissing me and sticking a finger up my ass and covering my prick with his mouth and I am getting so hard and I am screaming and stroking myself so fast I may have a heart attack. A part of me hopes I will. I need to see Michael again.

Oh God, this feels so good. No, not just good; I am mad with pleasure. I feel like strutting around the gym–no, all of New York–with my giant cock out for every man to see and suck.

I spy a hole in the wall and think it’s the perfect size, and before I realize how ridiculous it is, I’m putting my dick in there, and thrusting my hips, and smacking my bare ass. I am not thinking about moving out of our house. I am not worrying about how to turn down that great guy my sister wants me to date; I am not wondering how I will manage to visit my husband’s grave without having yet another nervous breakdown.
All I am doing is thinking of Gym Boy.

Busted
by Kissa Starling

“What are you wearing?” My man is such a perv. No wonder we get along so well.

“Everything that you requested. Why don’t you let me drive and then you can see what I’m wearing in person?” She laughed into the phone but Andy stayed silent. At times she wondered what she was doing with such a serious lover, but then she remembered the way he made her feel when he…

“Lydia. Are you there?”

“Yes, I’m here.” She squinted against the glare of the car traveling opposite her.

“Tell me what you’re wearing.” Lydia swerved to the right to avoid going over the yellow line.

“A short skirt…” So short that my ass peeks out.

“No panties, right?”

“Of course not. My black thin silk shirt…”

“No bra, right?” Why can’t I ever finish a sentence?

“No, Andy, no bra. Listen I have to drive.”

“Don’t hang up that phone.” Silence. “Tell me about your bush.”

“Again, just as you like it. I haven’t shaved in weeks.” Ten million men like bare pussy and I get an Indian guy who loves hair!

“Mmm. I can’t wait till you get here. You have me hot already. Now get off of that phone. You shouldn’t be talking and driving at the same time.” Just thinking of the night ahead spurred tingles throughout her body.

“Really? Well than maybe you shouldn’t be calling me. See you soon.”

Satisfaction Guaranteed
by Sommer Marsden

He was close enough to call out a Howdy! but it died in his throat when Chuck came up behind her and pressed the flat of his jeans to the back of her skirt. Chuck and Dana had just purchased Jimmy’s. They were only the third owners. The original Jimmy had died ages ago. Tom Streat had sold them the diner about three months back. Chuck shoved his big hands under his wife’s skirt and lifted. As she cleaned the counter, he tugged at her pale aqua panties. Definitely not a thong, these were a throwback to the days when dames wore real undergarments. And somehow the bigness of them by today’s standards made Jared’s cock go hard. Harder than the morning wood that haunted him now that sex was just a pipe dream.

Or maybe, he thought, rubbing his fingers hesitantly up the rigid length of his hard-on, it was the yards of pale leg that unwound from the leg holes of those panties. Dana had gams, that was for sure, long muscles that were pale like milk. He caught the flash of a brown birthmark at the top of her thigh, part of it hidden under the aqua elastic. He wondered if Chuck ever traced it with his tongue before eating her pussy. Or during. Did he take breaks to tongue her birthmark? With that thought, Jared took a giant step back into the protection of the copse of trees.

Was he really going to do this?

Rosse Buurt
by Geneva King

De Wallen is Amsterdam’s infamous Red-Light District, or rosse buurt, as they say in the native tongue. Working girls–and guys–strut their stuff in windows before an audience of serious customers, and many gawking tourists, the latter trying to decide if they’re turned on or bothered by the display. At least, if they’re anything like me they are.

In a city as beautiful and scenic as Amsterdam, the Red-Light District is a shock even to those of us expecting it. During the day, Amsterdam is a quaint city. But at night, the rosse buurt beckons.

Finding De Wallen is easy enough. I just follow the crowd, some of them men with sheepish looks and upturned collars and expressions that say, I don’t normally do this. Really. There are women too; we hate to be left out. I, like the rest of them, get the once-over from people wondering what side we’re on. Pro or customer? Tourist or activist?

The Dutch make it obvious you’ve arrived. If the buildings don’t give it away, the artwork will. On one street, I step over a bronze breast. Farther down, I see a statue of a woman selling her body from a doorway.

One side of the crowded street is a sea of lit windows. There must be dozens, all filled with people. For a moment, they look like half-dressed mannequins, but then I see one move, hitting the window to attract passersby.

I’ve Only Got Eyes for You
by Rachel Kramer Bussel

I smiled as best a woman with her own panties stuffed in her mouth can, letting the camera, the viewers, know how much he turned me on. “Okay, we can take those out,” Troy said. “I want them to hear you scream.”

I blushed again because I do tend to scream, loudly, so loudly that hotel security has been summoned to our various rooms on more than one occasion, and I’ve had to peep out the door with my hair disheveled and face flushed and know that the man standing before me is picturing me getting hammered in the most depraved way possible. “What do you want, Lindsey?” Troy asked me.

He knew exactly what I wanted, but he wanted to hear me say it. “I want your cock. I want it all the way down my throat,” I told him, then started to suck his cock, so hard and ripe and ready for me. I couldn’t imagine any woman watching this would see it and not want to suck it.

He let me go down on him for a few minutes before easing me off. “I think you need a little spanking first,” he said.

I smiled, because I always want a spanking from him. He had me lie across his lap, so I could feel his erection pressing up against me. He tilted me toward the camera to show off my ass. Then he brought his hand down hard on my right cheek, followed by my left. “What a pretty handprint,” he said, while I just buried my face in my arms.

Calendar Girl
by Angela Caperton

Charlie appeared like a genie to take the roses and she stood and walked to the screen, her breath faster and the line between her legs sodden and dripping. Desi paused beside the screen, looking at the lurid curtains and the sofa, like something in a sultan’s harem. She thought of the Arabian Nights and the woman who kept herself alive by telling stories, by enchanting a man with her talents.

She thought of April and her nipples tightened.

She shed her blouse, camisole and bra without hesitation, and before she put the blouse back on, she looked at the costumes on hangers behind the screen. Some of the shining fantasies were no bigger than her hand, and her nipples grew as hard as marbles as she imagined herself in glossy black and white, shining patches of satin. She stole a glimpse of herself in the mirror, unable to look directly at her image, the rising curves with dark rigid tips, and her face that of the woman in Bobby’s photos.

She slipped on the sheer blouse and buttoned it to the place Mr. Bentley had asked for, aware of every place the linen touched her, its cling no more than mist, but intense as a warm finger. She stepped from behind the screen, her blood pulsing in her ears, her throat, and her treasure. Almost giddy, she walked toward the men and their cameras.

Read all 18 stories in their entirety in Peep Show: Erotic Tales of Voyeurs and Exhibitionists.

Post cards and Facebook

October 5, 2009

Peep Show: Erotic Tales of Voyeurs and Exhibitionists now has a Facebook fan page! Please join.

Also, Peep Show postcards are in! Want one? Send your mailing address (US only) to peepshowantho at gmail.com

The sexy shot-in-New-York book trailer will debut later this month.

About the Peep Show: Tales of Voyeurs and Exhibitionists authors

October 5, 2009

About the Contributors to Peep Show: Erotic Tales of Voyeurs and Exhibitionists

Cheyenne Blue (“Watcher in the Shadows”) combines her two passions in life and writes travel guides and erotica. Her erotica has appeared in many anthologies, including Best Women’s Erotica, Mammoth Book of Best New Erotica, Best Lesbian Erotica, Best Lesbian Romance, and on many websites. You can read more of her erotica at www.cheyenneblue.com.

Born in Virginia and later raised on a sailboat, Angela Caperton (“Calendar Girl”) has traveled extensively and appreciates the world in all its forms. Her erotic fantasy, Woman of the Mountain, won the 2008 Eppie for Best Erotica, and she has short stories in Lust at First Bite and Girls on Top.

Elizabeth Coldwell (“Audience Participation”) is the editor of the UK edition of Forum. Her stories have appeared in anthologies including Spanked: Red Cheeked Erotica; Yes, Sir and Best Women’s Erotica 2009. One of these days she’ll get round to having a webcam installed.

Andrea Dale’s (“Now You See Her”) stories have appeared in Do Not Disturb and Afternoon Delight, among many others. With coauthors, she has written A Little Night Music and Cat Scratch Fever. “Now You See Her” is a companion story to “Come to My Window,” in Where the Girls Are. More at www.cyvarwydd.com.

Geneva King (“Rosse Buurt”) (www.genevaking.com) has stories appearing in over a dozen anthologies including: Ultimate Lesbian Erotica 2009, Ultimate Undies, Caramel Flava, and Travelrotica for Lesbians 1 & 2. A transplant to Northern MD, she’s constantly on the prowl for her next muse.

Lolita Lopez (“Indecent”) started writing naughty tales to entertain friends as part of her coed procrastination. Study biochemistry or pen a quick story for her girlfriends? No surprise that she’s on a sabbatical from college, eh? Lolita lives in Texas with her medic husband.

Sommer Marsden (“Satisfaction Guaranteed”) bangs out her smut from a small cottage on the East Coast. She has appeared in dozens of print anthologies, numerous dirty magazines, and multiple filthy webzines. She is the author of multiple ebooks found at eXcessica, Whiskey Creek Press Torrid and Eternal Press. You can reach her athot4sommer at yahoo.com.

M. March (“Missing Michael”) is the pseudonym of a writer who has contributed to the New York Post, AfterEllen, AfterElton, Gay City News, Blacktable.com, Self, Complete Woman, Time Out New York, First-Timers and Spanked: Red-Cheeked Erotica. Nonerotica interests include watching cult movies, browsing in bookstores, drinking strong coffee and listening to obscure disco.

L. A. Mistral (“The Theory of Orchids”) has published five erotic novels with Renaissance ebooks and his short stories can also be seen in print in the Cleis publications B Is for Bondage, Got a Minute?, Hide and Seek, and in Bound to Love. He also appears on the Ruthie’s Club, Clean Sheets and Oysters and Chocolate websites.

Nobilis Reed (“Glass”) takes care of his disabled wife, teenage kids, and too many cats, occasionally taking flights of erotic fancy that then become enmeshed in his brain until writing exorcises them. His career in smut has so far produced four novellas, which you can find at www.nobiliserotica.com.

Jennifer Peters (“People in Glass Hotels”) is the associate editor of Penthouse Forum and Girls of Penthouse magazines. Her work has appeared in several places under numerous names, but her bylines in Penthouse and Forum are her favorites.

Malcolm Ross (“Sleeping Beauty”) is the pseudonym of a happily married man (though not one with the same fetish as his protagonist) living deep in suburban Colorado. This is his first published story, though endless fantasies in his head are waiting to be written.

Monica Shores (“Superior”) is a frequent contributor to $pread magazine, where she is also an editor. Her writing appears on Alternet, Boinkology, Popmatters, and filthygorgeousthings.com. While she does not particularly want to be pigeonholed as someone who writes only about sex, she’s also not particularly interested in writing about anything else.

A country boy by breeding, Craig J. Sorensen “Ownership” got his first Peep Show at an adult bookstore in New York City during a senior trip in high school. He’s been peeping ever since, and parlays this fascination into his erotica. His work appears in anthologies and at various online locations including Clean Sheets.

Susan St. Aubin (“Showtime”) has been writing erotica for over twenty years. Her work has been published in Yellow Silk, Libido, Herotica, Best American Erotica, Best Women’s Erotica, Best Lesbian Erotica, and many other journals and anthologies, as well as http://www.cleansheets.com, http://www.fishnetmag.com and http://www.forthegirls.com, and most recently in Lust: Erotic Fantasies for Women.

Kissa Starling “Busted” (www.kissastarling.com) is a woman of many words. Her stories range from sweet to sizzling and everything in between. What started as a few words written in a diary has turned into a full-fledged writing career. She spends time each and every day dreaming up plots, researching settings, and dreaming up characters.

Donna George Storey “Clean and Pretty” (www.donnageorgestorey.com) is the author of Amorous Woman (Neon/Orion). Her fiction has been published in numerous anthologies, including Do Not Disturb: Hotel Sex Stories and X: The Erotic Treasury. She writes a column, “Cooking up a Storey,” for the Erotica Readers and Writers Association.

About the Editor

Rachel Kramer Bussel (“I’ve Only Got Eyes for You”) (www.rachelkramerbussel.com) is an author, editor, blogger, and reading series host. She has edited or coedited over twenty books of erotica, including Bottoms Up: Spanking Good Stories; Spanked; Naughty Spanking Stories from A to Z 1 and 2; The Mile High Club; Do Not Disturb; Tasting Him; Tasting Her; Yes, Sir; Yes, Ma’am; He’s on Top; She’s on Top; Caught Looking; Hide and Seek; Crossdressing; Rubber Sex; Sex and Candy; Ultimate Undies; Glamour Girls; Bedding Down; and the nonfiction collections Best Sex Writing 2008, 2009 and 2010. Her work has been published in over one hundred anthologies, including Best American Erotica 2004 and 2006, Zane’s Chocolate Flava 2 and Purple Panties, Everything You Know About Sex Is Wrong, Single State of the Union and Desire: Women Write About Wanting. She serves as senior editor at Penthouse Variations, and wrote the popular “Lusty Lady” column for The Village Voice.

Rachel has written for AVN, Bust, Cleansheets.com, Cosmopolitan, Curve, Fresh Yarn, The Frisky, Gothamist, Huffington Post, Mediabistro, Newsday, New York Post, Penthouse, Playgirl, Radar, San Francisco Chronicle, Tango, Time Out New York, and Zink, among others. She has appeared on The Martha Stewart Show,The Berman and Berman Show, NY1, Showtime’s Family Business. She has hosted In The Flesh Erotic Reading Series since October 2005, which has featured everyone from Susie Bright to Zane, about which the New York Times’s UrbanEye newsletter said she “welcomes eroticism of all stripes, spots and textures.” She blogs at lustylady.blogspot.com.

Peep Show: Erotic Tales of Voyeurs and Exhibitionists to be published in November

April 30, 2009

Peep Show: Erotic Tales of Voyeurs and Exhibitionists is edited by Rachel Kramer Bussel (rachelkramerbussel at gmail.com) and will be published by Cleis Press in November 2009.

Blurbs:

Peep Show takes you through the looking glass and into an erotic world of wonder where looking and being looked at creates hot encounters of the highest order.”
Audacia Ray, author of Naked on the Internet

“”Rachel Kramer Bussel has, once again, assembled a top-flight collection. This naughty gem will appeal to both the connoisseur and the curious reader who just wants a peek.”
Lily Burana, author of Strip City: A Stripper’s Farewell Journey Across America

Introduction: Hungry Eyes and Sensual Show-Offs (see below)

Showtime by Susan St. Aubin
Clean and Pretty by Donna George Storey
Superior by Monica Shores
People in Glass Hotels by Jennifer Peters
Indecent by Lolita Lopez
Ownership by Craig J. Sorensen
Audience Participation by Elizabeth Coldwell
Now You See Her by Andrea Dale
Watcher in the Shadows by Cheyenne Blue
Glass by Nobilis Reed
Sleeping Beauty by Malcolm Ross
The Theory of Orchids by L. A. Mistral
Missing Michael by M. March
Busted by Kissa Starling
Satisfaction Guaranteed by Sommer Marsden
Rosse Buurt
by Geneva King
I’ve Only Got Eyes for You by Rachel Kramer Bussel
Calendar Girl by Angela Caperton

Introduction: Hungry Eyes and Sensual Show-Offs

When the stories started rolling in for Peep Show, I was surprised to see that so many were about sex work: strippers, burlesque babes, and other professional show-offs and their customers. I had intended the title to be a sexy suggestion of the complementary fetishes of exhibitionism and voyeurism, not necessarily the main setting for the bulk of the stories. As I kept reading, though, I realized that peep shows and other forms of commercialized sexual displays are a major way we as a culture sanction the act of watching.

There’s a sense of the forbidden in many of the stories you’ll read here, whether money changes hands or not. There is the thrill of baring your body in exactly the place you’re not supposed to, which Lolita Lopez zeroes in on with her nude campus performance art protagonist in “Indecent.” As Lopez writes, “Trini couldn’t stop herself. The risk heightened the allure.” In Malcolm Ross’s “Sleeping Beauty,” the main character catches his gorgeous wife in repose in the middle of the night, and is compelled to keep on watching. M. March gives us a poignant, moving story of being watched over from above.

As for those peep shows, there’s plenty of very sexy jiggling to be seen here. Donna George Storey beautifully and, as always, utterly erotically captures a different kind of peep show in “Clean and Pretty,” in which an American woman in Japan soaps up in the shower, getting paid handsomely, while exulting in the one viewer who can look for free. Geneva King takes us deep inside Amsterdam’s famous red-light district, or “Rosse Buurt,” A woman is drawn to a woman she sees there, a woman who “stands in her window on the second story, not banging on the glass like the other girls, just standing, surveying the crowd, like she picks the customer and not the other way around, like she’s deciding who is lucky enough to experience any bit of her.” This is the kind of woman who sells her body in this book; one who’s knowing, aware, yet can allow herself to get swept away by passion, even when she’s on the clock.

Modern technology also plays a role here in the webcam-themed “Audience Participation” and “I’ve Only Got Eyes for You,” where private citizens become amateur porn stars. When you think of voyeurs, you probably picture the iconic image of the Peeping Tom, and he’s to be found in these pages as well, once, even wearing a trench coat. But rather than being the town creep, here the various peeping Toms (and Thomasinas) are more than just stereotypes. They see and hear things they aren’t supposed to, and sometimes, as with Sommer Marsden’s Jared in “Satisfaction Guaranteed,” they even get caught.

Neighbors, coworkers, spouses, and hotel guests all experience the power of looking, and being looked at. Even the most intimate relationships can get closer when one person opens himself up to being studied, caressed not with the hands but with the eyes. These stories honor the art of the striptease, the daring of the nudist, the boldness of the person who’ll go out of her way to get more than an eyeful. I hope the sensual visions these stories create stay in your mind’s eye for a long time to come.

Rachel Kramer Bussel
New York