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Summary

Confessions of an Erotica Reader

I love lesbian sex. I love talking about sex. I love mentally undressing the sexy women in my life. I love planning what I’m going to do when my partner gets home. I love having sex, curling my hand inside my partner and feeling the intensity of her pleasure. I love her hand curled inside me, the experience of utterly losing control. I love it all. Outside of actual fucking, my favorite kinky activity is reading erotic stories. I love crawling inside another person’s imagination. What hot situation will she dream up? Who are the characters, where in the story will they come together, and what will they do once they get there? I’m a voyeur. By reading erotica I get to “watch” hot women having sex. Sometimes an erotic story presents me with new ideas, and sometimes an erotic stories causes me to revisit an erotic scenario or activity I hadn’t entertained recently. You might say that reading erotica keeps me fresh. No surprise, since I am a founding publisher of Cleis Press, which has published thousands of them. As a sex educator and sex coach, I deploy erotica as the secret tool for women who feel stuck or emptied of desire. Read sex stories, indulge your fetish, get your kink on, discover your heat, I say. Since publication of The Whole Lesbian Sex Book: A Passionate Guide for All of Us, I have heard from many, many women, grateful to have a sex guide written just for us—and packed with information and suggestions, and, as one woman wrote, “inspiration, affirmation, and illumination.” Think of Whole Lesbian Sex Stories as the companion volume to The Whole Lesbian Sex Book. Here are my favorite graphic depictions of lesbian sex—stories of urgent sex, kinky sex, vanilla sex, self-pleasuring sex, cross-dressing sex, public sex, butch/femme sex, voyeuristic sex, BDSM, edgy sex, passionate, dirty sex. It’s all here.
Published: Cleis Press on
ISBN: 9781573449571
List price: $3.99
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INTRODUCTION: CONFESSIONS OF AN EROTICA READER

I love lesbian sex. I love talking about sex. I love mentally undressing the sexy women in my life. I love planning what I’m going to do when my partner gets home.

I love having sex, curling my hand inside my partner and feeling the intensity of her pleasure. I love her hand curled inside me, the experience of utterly losing control. I love it all.

Outside of actual fucking, my favorite kinky activity is reading erotic stories.

I love crawling inside another person’s imagination. What hot situation will she dream up? Who are the characters, where in the story will they come together, and what will they do once they get there?

I’m a voyeur. By reading erotica I get to watch hot women having sex. Sometimes an erotic story presents me with new ideas, and sometimes an erotic story dp n=6 folio=v ? causes me to revisit an erotic scenario or activity I hadn’t entertained recently. You might say that reading erotica keeps me fresh.

It’s no surprise, since I am a founding publisher of Cleis Press, which has published thousands of erotic stories. As a sex educator and sex coach, I deploy erotica as the secret tool for women who feel stuck or emptied of desire. Read sex stories, indulge your fetish, get your kink on, discover your heat, I say.

Since publication of The Whole Lesbian Sex Book: A Passionate Guide for All of Us, I have heard from many, many women, grateful to have a sex guide written just for us—and packed with information, suggestions, and, as one woman wrote, inspiration, affirmation, and illumination. Think of Whole Lesbian Sex Stories as the companion volume to The Whole Lesbian Sex Book. Here are my favorite graphic depictions of lesbian sex—stories of urgent sex, kinky sex, vanilla sex, self-pleasuring sex, cross-dressing sex, public sex, butch/ femme sex, voyeuristic sex, BDSM, edgy sex, passionate, dirty sex. It’s all here.

Enjoy!

Felice Newman

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IF YOU CAN MAKE IT THERE, YOU CAN MAKE IT ANYWHERE

A. J. Stone

It’s an early fall night when the weather hovers between thoughts of summer, hot and sticky, and then changes its mind and whips into the frenzy of fall. My skin reacts, stands away from bone, supported by fine hairs, and my nipples grow hard, as if touched by a finger or a tongue. It’s late. A girls’ night out—my friend Nathalie and I have splurged on a new and fashionable restaurant downtown just above Wall Street, a neighborhood as sly and mysterious as the weather. Nathalie and I have known each other for years. We roomed together briefly when Nathalie first came to New York; now she lives uptown in an apartment which, until recently, she shared with Mark, her boyfriend of five years. The restaurant is thick with businessmen on expense accounts, pungent with testosterone, cocks at attention and ready to pounce. Nathalie and I gossip and drink round balloons of red wine that pop down our throats and make dp n=8 folio=2 ? us as giggly as if we had sniffed helium. Two women in a room full of men, the first women most of them have seen all day apart from their dowdy secretaries or their female colleagues. Two women dressed in revealing clothing—low-cut dresses that slip and tease. A glimpse of nipple, a thigh unconsciously rubbed. Dresses of thin silk that slips into the cracks of our asses as we walk. Dresses clearly worn over no underwear. Dresses to frustrate. A few men buy us drinks but we’re not biting. I have another goal in mind: the blonde sitting across the table from me. Curiosity has been an unspoken dance between us for years, frustrated by our other obligations. Suddenly, we are single at the same time.

We skirt around the tension between us, pumping it up by discussing sex, the first time, the best time, the craziest time. Nathalie puts down her fork in the middle of the main course—medallions of black cod—and runs a hand through her blonde hair. There is a moment of silence before she speaks.

Remember the week Mark was away on business and we went out to that sushi place and got drunk on sake? she begins.

I remembered that, and passing out on Nathalie’s bed.

When I woke up, sometime around dawn, I had a terrible headache. I downed a couple of aspirin but I threw them right up. There was this...well...trick I’d learned in college. You were sound asleep..., Nathalie falters, embarrassed, the color rising in her cheeks.

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Go on, I urged her, one hand beneath my napkin, playing with my dress.

Nathalie plunges onward. She had pulled up her nightgown and masturbated while I slept soundly beside her.

I was so afraid you’d wake up, she