My Writing

Monday, April 30, 2012

There Is Never a Second First Time

Cento:
 
From the Latin word for "patchwork," the cento (or collage poem) is a 
poetic form made up of lines from poems by other poets. Though poets 
often borrow lines from other writers and mix them in with their own, a 
true cento is composed entirely of lines from other sources.
 
 
 
There Is Never a Second First Time (a Cento poem)
 
I remember the desperate things we did.
 
Pink lips, the serrate
folds taste smooth, and Rosehip-
round, the center bud I suck.
 
Your heart beats in that belly 
where the double sex sleeps. 
 
Fill me with the wild white honey of your words
and then leave me to the mercy
of the forest bees.
 
How do you peel away each desire
like ponderous clothes, one at a time,
until what's underneath is known? 
 
I think about your sex. 

Hard to imagine getting
anywhere near another semi-
nude encounter.
 
Oh, to be ready for it, unfucked, ever-fucked.

You arrive at night inspired and drunk,
Our mirrored desires bubbling from the most unlikely places.
 
I felt your hot wrist shiver  
and suddenly the mad victory I planned
flashed real, in your burning bending head.
 
 
 
 

Sunday, April 29, 2012

A Marriage Ballad

I have a hard time with "formulaic" poetry.  Not only does it usually sound forced...it sounds antiquated, which isn't bad, when I'm reading a favorite "old" poem.  For example, I love Poe's "Annabel Lee".... but I would sound silly writing that - childish, and overplayed.  But, I'm going to give it a shot, as I am now on to Ballads in my challenge.

Elements of the ballad style of poetry include:

  • Commonly, stanzas of four, eight or twelve lines, with variations on these. The rhyming pattern is usually ABAB or AABB. There is no limit to the number of stanzas.
  • A narrative story being told, perhaps of heroism or folklore
  • Many ballads use humor
  • personal characteristics of loyalty, courage, heroism, etc. being extolled
  • sometimes there is the use of a repeated refrain 





Marriage

"Let us go then, you and I,
When the evening is spread out against the sky
Like a patient etherized upon a table..."
(The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock - T.S. Eliot) 

 We set sail across the straight,
North, toward lights in an adjacent harbor.
Cool, late winter wind made
the water choppy and my cheeks sore.

Feet on land, we walked
up and down the store-lined streets
searching for just the right ones.  We talked,
laughed, and stopped into a pub to eat.

Our quest to find the perfect symbol
of our promise to one another
could have taken days, whole
weeks or more.

How does one find a piece of gold,
maybe a sprinkling of jewels,
that can hold
the meaning and story of two?

In the window of a tiny, dark store-front,
a delicate antique ring caught my eye,
 but the Irishman wearing a jeweler's apron
could not tell me its story.

In a glamorous case under fluorescent lights
several streets away,
flashy diamonds and dollar signs
left us disoriented and dismayed.

The Claddagh's strong sentiment,
love, loyalty, and friendship,
was overshadowed by price
and poor craftsmanship.

But, finally, two simple white gold bands,
mine with small diamonds and filigree.
We purchased them
and set off back across the sea.

How does one find a symbol
for a love that is more than love?
For a love that is lust and friendship,
trust and hope and afterglow?

That night, when none were watching
my ringed hand touched yours
and somehow we were something
that we were not quite before.

As skin touched skin and breast touched chest,
our thighs were intertwined,
and in the dark, our bodies one,
aligned were hearts and minds.

It's not the gold that binds us,
it's the promise it represents,
and the words that cannot be spoken,
the braided story that is kept

not in a book, but in our bones
not in conversation, but in looks exchanged
during moments of anger and forgiveness.
Moments of passion rearrange

the elements and place them back changed.
Each time my hips rise to meet yours,
tangible pieces are exchanged;
we filter into and out of one another.

In a sea of expectation,
waves of anticipation or contentment
lead onto shores of what is and will become;
cyclical, cylindrical, rings of moments spent.

Your first ring lies at the bottom of a lake,
a night we fought because you pushed me in unexpectedly.
I could swim, but it was dark and late.
I came up without my glasses, furious and gasping.

We recovered the glasses months later.
But never the ring.  It had to be replaced.
This time, by something you wanted more, something better.
And somehow, that is fitting, in this case.
 












Saturday, April 28, 2012

Skin

In honor of National Poetry Month...I'm going to attempt to write a poem in every form...well, at least every form I know of.
Form:  abecedarian/acrostic
According to poets.org, this form is defined as follows -

The abecedarian is an ancient poetic form guided by alphabetical order. Generally each line or stanza begins with the first letter of the alphabet and is followed by the successive letter, until the final letter is reached. The earliest examples are Semitic and often found in religious Hebrew poetry. The form was frequently used in ancient cultures for sacred compositions, such as prayers, hymns, and psalms. There are numerous examples of abecedarians in the Hebrew Bible; one of the most highly regarded is Psalm 118 (or 119 by King James numbering). It consists of twenty-two eight-line stanzas, one for each letter of the Hebrew alphabet. Chaucer's "An ABC" is an excellent medieval example of the form. He crafted his translation of a French prayer into twenty-three eight-line stanzas that follow the alphabet (minus J, U, V, and W).

So...here goes...

Skin

Criss-cross patterns
on your thigh
mimic rope indentations;
each line intersecting, purple and deep.

When you undress
in the evening, I run
this inventory, a
hungry inspection of your skin;

mostly creases left by clothing, I eye
each curve of each bone

and each muscle;
nothing left unseen.
Digging under covers,

between limbs, my fingers become my
eyes, tracing fading rivets and lines

made by the day.
You tell me what happened at work, and I

listen, intent
on your words but
viscerally
engrossed by the map of your skin.

Julius Reque - Man Undressing

Tuesday, April 17, 2012

e[lust] #35


Photo Courtesy of Vincent and Mia
Welcome to e[lust] - The only place where the smartest and hottest sex bloggers are featured under one roof every month. Whether you're looking for sex journalism, erotic writing, relationship advice or kinky discussions it'll be here at e[lust].� Want to be included in e[lust] #36? Start with the newly updated rules, come back May 1st to submit something and subscribe to the RSS feed for updates!
~ Top 3 ~
Strangers in a bar
Dealing with Abuse in Our Communities
Special Request
~ Featured Post (Picked by Lilly) ~
What Keeps Us Going
~ e[lust] Editress ~
Sex Toy Journalism: Seeking the Truths of Silicone via Flame Testing and Confronting Manufacturers - Why flame test? �Pure� silicone, be it food grade or medical grade, shouldn�t melt or deform under the heat of an open flame from a disposable lighter or match � a fact you�ll see demonstrated in the video
Thoughts & Advice on Sex & Relationships
Comparisons Part Three
Cosmic Vibrations
Momentum: Reflections and Impressions
My Feminine Fountain is Finally Flowing (I squirted for the 1st time!)
PolyAnna's Musings: Attraction
Q&A Number 1: Play Partners
Sexual Bucket List (and a Brief Diatribe on My Self Censorship Hang Up)
The "Dry Rut/Root"! Non-sex?
Intolerance � Contraception Debate, Religious Intolerance, & Grumpy Cooper
Erotic Writing
Come Together
Encounter in the Spa
Flame
Good Bad Sex
I needed him there and then
inside
Make Me Cum
Namaste
Onomatopoeia
Play Lady Play
Quitting While Ahead
Rampage - YSL's birthday treats
sleep
the Confidante and I film ourselves
third
The first time I slept with the Girl in the Red DressTiming Is Everything
We drink each other's cum
Kink & Fetish
Assignment from M
Buttons
Cigars
Fucked Raw
Foot fetishists, come talk to me
Imprints
Make Me
Nice vs. Good
On "Closure."
Practicing My Religion
Please Fuck Me
Snap
Sex News, Interviews, Politics & Humor
Annie fucking Sprinkle
Voice and the Author

Sunday, April 15, 2012

Sexual Growth

“You will either step forward into growth,
or you will step backward into safety.”




The last few days, I've been prompt writing...trying to push myself to try something new.  Not that I don't prompt write a lot anyway....

Today, the site from which I get many of my prompts presented the above quote as fodder.  It is a good, simple quote.  Buuuuuuutttttt...when you throw it in to the context of a sex blog, it does change it just a bit, doesn't it?

Sexual safety vs. sexual growth.  What does that mean?  Is "sexual safety" doing the same thing (missionary) with the same person (monogamy) forever?  What kind of growth might/does one do in a monogamous relationship.  Is promiscuity the same as growth (I think not)?

So, let's explore this a bit. 

In my humble opinion, a person can grow sexually in any situation.  Single, married, attached.  Young, middle-aged, elderly.  It isn't about how much sex you have or with how many people.  It's what you do.

That being said, I believe sexual growth is mental and emotional, when it comes right down to it.  For example, a young married couple who tries a new position out of the Kama Sutra every night isn't necessarily experiencing growth.  Sexual adventure, maybe.  But, as they try these new positions, if it is changing the way they feel about each other sexually, and themselves...then yes, it's growth.

For a single middle-aged woman who has never been married and hasn't had sex with a real person since high school, the simple act of masturbating isn't going to lead to sexual growth...but, if she begins examining who she is as a sexual being, accepts herself and begins to please herself sexually in a more intimate and mentally/emotionally fulfilling way...then she's growing.

I guess it comes to this.  I don't think experience leads directly to growth.  Let's face it, a guy (or gal) could have sex all their lives and never change or grow as a sexual being.  I've met these people...and they are a sad lot.  They don't really know what they want or what others want.  They don't even seek to understand.  Experience can aide in a person's sexual growth, because it gives them something to respond to and consider.  And that experience can be physical or mental.  It can come through any sense.

We humans are meant to be sexual and sensual beings.  I really think it's one of the major things that sets us apart from other animals.  Sex for us should be a mix of primal urge and sensual stimulation.  Without one, I believe, the other is not as satisfying.

Hmmm...there are so many ways to respond to this quote.  

On a day when I am headed into the city with my husband to partake of a luscious new couple, the anticipation building...I consider the growth.  Interestingly...while the sexual encounter is paramount to the sexual growth...it isn't really the sex that does it.  It has to do with my own head and with my marriage.  Experiences like this change who I am as a sexual being.  Usually, they build my confidence, increase my libido, stimulate my imagination, give me something to write about and think about...consider.  These experiences also change my marriage.  Each time my husband and I have sex outside our marriage, it involves a lot of discussion.  We discuss boundaries, expectations, desires.  We become more and more intimately entwined.  I would wager to say that we are more sexually and emotionally close that some people who've been married 40 years.  And it isn't the amount of sex that's being had or the number of people with whom it's being had.  It's how we go about finding, managing, discussing, and accepting each experience we share together.

Okay...sappy, I know.  But, it really gets at the heart of why my husband and I "swing". 

We aren't experts.  Haven't been doing this for years and years.  We don't even have time to really get around to it very often.  Schedules, kids, life - it all gets in the way.  But, a well-placed, well-used "sexperience" can be relationship-changing.  The beauty of it?  It's "safe" growth.  I do this with my husband.  He's right there to watch (or at least hear) what's going on.  We've joked that it's like dating with your best friend.  Through eye-contact alone, he can tell if I'm comfortable or wary.  We find ways to communicate, either verbally or not, through the whole experience.  It's like a "timeout" in football.  Huddle....discuss....break!  Back to the game.

I don't mean to downplay the importance of the other couple.  They are a necessary ingredient in what we do.  Plus, it's always nice to make new friends (w/benefits).  But, I think it is important to note the major difference between swinging and polyamory.  I'm not looking to fall in love with anyone other than my husband.  He, and he alone, gets that part of me...my body and mind are another thing.  I have at least some control over my body (if I'm sober, that is), but I have virtually no control over my mind.  It will go where it will go, regardless of how I feel about it.  

Hmmmm...I'm not sure how I got here...or where I'm going with this.  Just thinking out loud, I suppose.  And you are quite welcome to weigh in on the issue.  

In the context of relationships and sex, what is safe?  What constitutes growth?  How does one evolve sexually?

David Wilder Photography








Saturday, April 14, 2012

Perfect Cover


"Shhh..."
He placed one finger vertically against his lips
and ducked under the bridge,
looking back to beckon me,
his left hand waving eagerly.

The sunset cast an eerie rose-colored light
above nearly black trees;
I pulled my inadequate cardigan closed,
clasping it together with one hand
between my teenage breasts.

Through word-of--mouth
we'd heard this was the place
older couples came to park,
make out, fuck in the open wild.
I wasn't convinced I wanted to see,
but he was like a skilled fisherman,
baiting me with those white teeth,
black t-shirts displaying obscure bands,
hair falling limply over one eye.

He sat on a large boulder beneath the wooden bridge.
It was small, gray with age, and missing several slats.
Evening light filtered through the seams in the planks,
just enough for me to see the glint in his eye,
"Listen...I think I hear them..."
He handed me the binoculars.

Standing balanced on two rocks, looking into the trees,
I could just make out the sedan's silhouette,
possibly navy blue or black.
Beside it, bare skin upon bare skin,
The naked backside of a fairly fit man,
female legs and arms wrapped
around his neck and thighs.
With each of his thrusts,
the tension in his thighs and ass
waxed and waned.
Occasionally, the sound of a male groan
or a lighter female cry.

My companion's hand moved
slightly higher up my leg,
but I kept watching,
transported by uncompromising curiosity,
my locked attention, leaving me
open to his exploration,
unwilling to protest or resist.

He knelt before me, his hands
at the top of my thighs, thumbs
gently rubbing, his face so close,
I could feel the heat of his breath
through my jeans.

I kept watching the man and woman,
her form now bent over the back of the car,
legs spread wide, heeled shoes pushing her
high enough to meet his cock.

The trees teased my view,
occasionally depriving me.
I never saw their faces,
but the transport truck behind the car
looked like the one driven by
my mother's mechanic.

Not much caring who they were,
I gave my attention to them
and my body to the boy at my feet,
whose probing hands were sliding
my jeans down around my calves,
then slipping in between skin and lace
to alternately finger and suck.

Short, insistent breaths escaped my lips
encouraging him to pull my panties down.
He held onto one leg and
pulled the clothing off the other,
then spread my legs,
guiding the now free ankle up
and onto an adjacent rock.
Better access.
The cold twilight air hit my pussy,
but greater yet was the pleasant shock
of his mouth and tongue,
hot and wet, hungry in a way
only youth can be.
I could hardly balance or concentrate
on the scene before me.

The couple pulled apart,
kissing, dressing, and finding their own vehicles.
The sun, nearly down, caught the sedan just right
as it backed up and turned around.
Purple, dark purple...
and the woman, blond, dark blond.
The transport truck.
My mother's mechanic.
My mother's hair, blond.
He car, a deep shade of purple,
almost black.

I dropped the binoculars
and squealed loudly
his lips and tongue sucking greedily,
his teeth softly teasing my clit.

I came at the very moment I realized what I'd seen,
the orgasm drowning the shock on my face.
The perfect cover
in the cold of oncoming night.




I was given a list of words and told to create a poem.  This is the result.  It has no actual connection to my life, other than the emotion behind the words.  Pure, intoxicating fiction.  Words:  shhh, eerie, mechanic, binoculars, navy, cardigan, transport, caring, uncompromising)











Friday, April 13, 2012

Deep-six

The depths of your white swirling sea
are fathomless;
beneath your skin -
muscle, bone,
a muffled consequence
hidden in darker waters.

Riding the waves of your hips -
an undulating lullaby,
back and forth...
hypnotic.

You pull me under,
open-eyed and wild
with lunar intoxication;
our bodies swelling
along the same current.

I am drowning at the edge of release.
I open my mouth to scream,
swallowing your stream -
throat open.

I could go deeper,
lose sight of the light above -
evolve and morph
into something that can live
beneath your mirrored waters...
a distorted, moving reflection
that isn't quite you -
but isn't quite me.



(This one was written to the one word writing prompt:  Deep-six.  I get my writing prompts from lots of places, but this came from www.thewriteprompts.com.)

Thursday, April 12, 2012

Shaving without pain?


So, yes...I remember a time when I was wild and free...my bush trimmed, but certainly not absent. I started shaving my bikini line in high school...but the real shaving didn't begin until I met my husband. He has been "clean shaven" for years (way before I got a hold of him)...smooth balls are nice against your chin...and no wayward hairs to get stuck between teeth or at the back of the throat (ee-gads, I hate that). So, he made the fair request that I, too, go bare.

The first time I shaved...I broke out in a rash almost immediately. But, I had liked the feeling of being hairless so much, that I knew I was going to have a to find a way to at least keep it somewhat maintained. I tried a Brazilian wax once (maybe twice, I can't remember). It was so horrendously painful (and yes, I've had children and been tattooed several times, so I know what pain is and can usually get through it). I just couldn't face it again.

So, I found myself a couple of decent tools (the to keep myself trimmed up without much "after burn") . But I still have to go a few weeks between shaves. I can't do it daily or weekly, because I still tend to rash up. I wish I had a better system, and I have researched it extensively, but none of the tips seem to work to keep the razor burn at bay. I've experimented with different shave creams, water temp, shaving while submerged in water, after lotions, creams to help control in-grown hairs....none of it works.  It isn't the shaving that's the problem...it's the maintenance afterward. 

Anyone have any great ideas...something I may not have thought of trying?

Wednesday, April 11, 2012

I like girls (bisexuality)


Recently I was having a conversation with a man and his wife at a "meet and greet".  Our talk turned to bisexuality and why it seems so much more common for women than for men.  He said something I found kind of funny at the time...but now I think it pretty much sums it up (for a lot of girls, anyhow):  "Every woman who hasn't already done it is just two or three drinks away from their first bisexual experience."

Hmmmm....

I don't know if that's completely true, but I do feel that it comes quite naturally to women.  Why?  Well, we don't have the social boundaries men do.  We never have.  In fact, if you go back in time, women often spent the majority of their lives with other women...ladies in waiting, maids, friends, sisters, mothers, aunts, governesses...you name it - women were relegated to the back seat...and they found solace in each others' company.

When I was a kid, having slumber parties, I remember doing each others' hair, giving each other back rubs...we just didn't have the "touch" issues that so many men seem to have.

It seems to have become socially acceptable, and....it's hot as hell.  Why else would it be a mainstay in porn?  There is, inevitabley an obligatory girl on girl scene in almost every feature length porn video.  They really used to annoy me, but now, I see them as simply part of the package.

In the 90s, I remember girls "using it" to get guys.  They'd make out in a bar for the specific purpose of turning on the guys and getting dates.  I'm not really a fan of this method...and I think it kind of cheapens the whole thing, but then...I'm cheap and easy, so who am I to judge? Let's face it, a lot of men love the sight.  And girls aren't stupid; they know how to use their bodies to get what they want.

Objectify me all you want.  If it gets me where I want to go, it's alright with me.

So, where is this post going?  Well...I kind of wanted to explore how I got to where I am today...with women, that is.

It really wasn't until college that I began to notice my propensity for "girl crushes".  In and of themselves, "girl crushes" aren't always sexual in nature.  It starts with admiration.  But, it can blossom into more if you let it.  There was one girl in particular...voluptuous hips, large breasts, black, curly hair, freckles, and bright green eyes.  Add to that a wicked sense of humor and a heaping dose of intelligence - yah...I would've gone there.  But, then, I was a young and insecure.  There's no way I would've had the guts to initiate anything.

Several years later, married, and exploring sexuality in a whole new way, I started to realize I was noticing the same girls my husband was...and I was enjoying it.  We had (and still do) a great time

Fast forward to our very first "swinger" experience.  On SLS, I had listed myself as "bi-curious".  I wasn't really sure it was for me, but I was interested enough to give it a shot.  I ended up making out with this woman, kissing her breasts, sucking her nipples, and going down on her - actions that were later reciprocated.  And, much like a wild animal who gets a taste for blood, I was hooked.

No longer "curious", I opened myself up to further experiences (which I've written about here).  I don't necessarily seek women out...but I find myself noticing them more and more.  For example, it's hard sometimes to focus at yoga class, when I'm on all fours, arching my back, staring at the ass in front of me that is pushed in the air like that of a cat in heat.  Good freaking lord!  I don't know how men do it.  And when I'm free to do what I want...around people "in the know"....it's just part of what we do.

I love men.  I married a man.  I love their sharp angles, their strength and hardness.  I like their musky scent and their power.  But, the softness of a woman is delicious.  Soft kisses, soft skin, soft folds.  Going back and forth--from the powerful, domineering kiss of a man...tongue deep, lips strong...to the feather touch of a woman, tongue exploring and seductive.  Why wouldn't I want both?  I'm all about having my cake and eating it, too.

I can't imagine going back.  I don't even know what life was like before I kissed a girl.

Here are a few with you in mind, LJ.  Enjoy.


While you listen, readers...please feel free to share your experiences or opinions on the topic. It's interesting to hear how we all grow sexually. Can't stand the thought of being with someone of the same sex? Tell us why. Always hand a hankering for the same sex? When did you know? How did it happen? Never tried it before, but want to? All the juicy details, please....

Sunday, April 8, 2012

Sexting




Ahhhh....the joys of modern technology.  It used to be phone sex and personal ads...then there were chat rooms and online "hook-up" sites...now we have sexting.  All of these things can be fun - whether you are with someone or not.  Something about the anticipation and the inability to have the desired object "right now."  And the power of being able to get another person all hot and bothered from afar...simply with your words and the thought of you.

I love getting random sexts, emails, pics - what have you - at totally inappropriate times - like when I'm at work...or standing in line at the store.  It's the surprise element, and always the possibility of being caught...someone seeing the "offending" words or photo over your shoulder.

Yummy, yummy titillation.

If you've had any great sexts or sexy emails lately...please feel free to share them below in the comments.  We don't need to know the context or who they were from...just the luscious words.

Here's a good one from my phone -

"I was just thinking about how I want to run my fingers through your hair with my left hand from behind you while my right hand traces around your chest, slowly down your stomach back and forth, hesitantly sliding down near your pussy....slowly I tease you with one finger, making little circles but not getting too close...I feel you tense up and sigh as I go near and then pull away...softly you beg for me to put my fingers inside you..."

This continued for a few more texts -

"So I slide up your body, you on your back. I've just been going down on you; you're wet and very turned on...I slide up very gently using my legs to spread yours: I'm kissing your chest, sucking on your nipples....I work my way up your neck to your ears, the whole time moving my body closer between your legs...I grab your wrists and put them above your head, I whisper in your ear that I want to be inside you...you whisper back yes...I put the head of my cock in your wet pussy and stop...I feel you trying to wiggle and get me in farther...I tell you no...you wiggle more and I hold your wrists tighter and say no...again you plea and say please...I slide a little farther in...softly you say yes and I stop again....you say please fuck me...I look at you in the eyes and say yes as I slide all the way inside you while I kiss you."

And again -

"We are at the bar, I'm sitting next to you in a booth; you're wearing a skirt and no panties; I have my hand on your knee and I'm sliding my hand up and down your thigh ever so slowly and nervously inching nearer your skirt but still not that close to your pussy as I feel your anticipation...now my hand is close and I see your breathing increase and I feel your legs get tense...you open your legs more as an invitation and I can feel that you're warm, very warm...I move in, caressing your lips with my two fingers, I spread your lips apart and start rubbing your clit...you put your hand on mine and whisper not here.  I keep rubbing and whisper back...I will stop when you cum...I keep rubbing faster and faster, small circles...you relax and I feel your legs tremble knowing that everyone in the bar knows that you're nearing orgasm...you're trying so hard to be quiet..."

Maybe we should create a sexting app where people are sent random sexts at weird times during the day and night.  Little surprise treats in your inbox.  So much better that a motivational quote to lighten your mood and put a smile on your face.

It's fun, also, to note, that these texts were not from my husband.  So, there's the added fun of sharing them with him.  He loves knowing that I get and send stuff like this.

BTW, thanks, "J", for these.  Hope you don't mind that I shared.

Thursday, April 5, 2012

Books: Best Sex Writing 2012

Recently, I was contacted via email by Cleis Press asking if I'd like a free copy of Best Sex Writing 2012: The State of Today's Sexual Culture.  I don't know why it took me so long to say, "Why, yes...please send my that FREE book about stuff I like to read about...I will gladly review it!"  Sheesh.



Anyhow, I now have the book in my hot little hands.  Haven't read much of it yet, but I must say I am impressed by the variety in the table of contents.  I think when I saw the initial email, I only looked at the main title, not the subtitle...and that's why I wasn't jumping all over the keyboard to get it.

I don't usually love erotica compilations.  In my experience, commercial erotica is just too superficial.  There isn't enough back story or human interest.  It's just sex, sex, sex.  And while there is certainly a market for that (a lot of people just want to get to the "good parts" and could care less about the literary quality of a text), I personally prefer my literature to be just that...literature (which is why I tend to stay mired in the classics).  There is a big difference between sex stories, smut, romance, and literary erotica.  It kind of annoys me that so little attention is paid to the differences.

Don't get me wrong.  I'm glad people are writing about sex, no matter in what regard or what medium.  I don't have to like it all.

But...I'm getting off track here.  Back to what I DO like.  And that is non-fiction about sex.  Love, love, love to know about people's opinions, personal experiences (memoir is at the top of my voyeuristic list), likes, dislikes, fetishes, concerns, etc.  It's why I love personal blogs.

So, I am looking forward to this little collection.

Anyone who is in the Portland area tomorrow (not me, unfortunately) should stop by Powell's books.  Rachel Kramer Bussel will be "kicking off" the book tour for the anthology.  Here's a little article about it from Just Out:

Sex Nerds Unite:  Rachel Kramer Bussel Kicks Off Best Sex Writing 2012 Book Tour at Powells