No Pretenses

January 26th, 2015

The other day I read a post by the wonderful, articulate and talented Rachel Kramer Bussel on Thought Catalog. I’ve read her tweets, her stories and plenty of collections she’s edited. In fact, I will soon be published in one of those very collections! Her recent piece “Sorry, But I’m Not A Sexpert” was as well-written as any. But it was was than that.

To me, the words my eyes were absorbing were like something I could have written. I wouldn’t dare to compare myself to Rachel, who has years of experience and has done more to make a career from her love of writing and sex than I ever might. But the thoughts in those paragraphs spoke to me nonetheless.

There are certainly some people who would call Ms. Bussel an expert in her own way, but she dispels the idea that her longevity and interest alone are enough to make her a sexpert. She goes on to explain how she feels more like a student than a teacher, and while people might learn something from her, she’s focusing on sharing her ideas, opinions and experiences with the world as a person who loves sex.

She will “play” with words to tell of her life and fantasies and to lend advice when appropriate, but it’s all based on her own experiences and nothing about it makes her an expert. And that’s okay.

I was particularly struck by this line:

There are plenty of amazing, smart, talented and dedicated sex educators out there who rightly deserve the title of sexpert.

What I hope to offer readers is something else: amateur honesty.

Rachel Kramer Bussel calls herself an amateur. Albeit an honest one, but an amateur nonetheless! And that’s still okay. If Rachel doesn’t need to be an expert, then I sure the hell don’t.

I think I really needed to read this post as my brokenhearted love life and nonexistent sex life — I’ve masturbated twice in approximately two months — had me wondering why I still have this blog. What could I offer to the world? What words can I type on the screen that haven’t already been said? And if I can’t say it better, should I even bother?

But here I am, overlooking the one difference that no one — not even I — can deny: I am me. There are no other mes in this world. So while I may not be able to write about Peachy escorts in London — at least, not yet — or sex rooms in Amsterdam, I can unapologetically stand up for a sex toy that I love. Or speak out against transphobia. Or offer a little advice based on my own experience as a human being who loves and fucks.

I toyed with calling this post “Rachel Kramer Bussel is who I want to be when I grow up.” And it’s not entirely untrue. But it also misses one of the points of her recent post: her value as an “amateur” extends directly from her individuality as a human being. To quote her again:

No, not everyone wants to share their sex lives, but for those who do, their stories are fascinating not because they know everything there is to know about a given sexual topic, but because they are individuals.

So I shouldn’t aim to be another person when I grow up. Rather, I should try to be me. Just, perhaps, a me who understands that it’s okay not to have all the answers. Like Rachel Kramer Bussel, I might help people find them, but I don’t have to pretend to have them all, even answers about my own life.

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The Big Book of Submission: 69 Kinky Tales

January 3rd, 2015

There’s something to be said for a good book that you can’t put down after a story/chapter or two. That’s the case with the Big Book of Submission.  I would intend to read a dozen pages, and I would finally put it down some 60 or 70 pages later. I was thoroughly enthralled and aroused, but this typically meant it took time away from sleeping or working or what-else-have-you that I should have been doing.

This meant that it took only a few sittings to get through this book, which boasts an impressive 69 stories. But because I knew I couldn’t put it down, I stretched them out for when I had time to read that much.

The Big Book of Submission is wonderful in terms of variety. There are (ignoring D/s), m/m, m/f and f/f roles. There’s a few trans stories to be found and all sorts of ambiguity around gender and gender roles. In short, it’s not heteronormative. But I think this big tome really goes one step further than that. I was really impressed at how The Big Book of Submission deal with the roles of top/dom and bottom/sub in regards to traditonal gender (roles). Not every man is the dom, nor is every butch. And through the words of the characters — almost, if not all of the stories are written in first person — we understand the implications and the intimacy of turning those roles in their heads.

Aside from variety in roles, there’s a variety in content and even in how most of the characters experience submission. For example, at least two stories dealt with a masochistic dominant and how their sub obeyed by providing sensation. The editor, Rachel Kramer Bussel, contributed one of those particular tales, entitled “Reverse Psychology.”

With 69 stories, you might think that some of them would be a little redundant, but I didn’t find this to be the case at all, even though there’s obviously similarly to the feelings that submissive feel when serving, obeying or worshiping their dominants. Each of them experiences their submission, scene and relationship in a unique way. There’s brand-new experiences, established relationships, breaking of limits and twists and turns that were crafted masterfully.

The writing in this BDSM anthology was pretty top-notch. All the authors were great at capturing the feelings evoked during a scene or in a BDSM relationship, along with the imagery that goes with it. Themes of trust and sometimes fear, hesitation and excitement, growth and pushing the boundaries are touched on time and again in this anthology. Although I am more able to identify some submissiveness in myself, this book might have the most hardened dom consider submitting a time or two!

Was there anything that I didn’t like? Sure, some stories are more forgettable. One in particular involved feet fetish, and that’s reaaalllly not my thing, so once it got to that part, I skipped to the next story. But I enjoyed more than I didn’t.

I especially enjoyed “The Problem Is, I’m a Bitch”, in which Corrine Arundo writes as a stubborn submissive who mocks a “cartoonishly” dress domme.  “Teddy Bare,” is a sexy yet sweet story about two men who wait until their first night of marriage to have sex and how they incorporate power play into their relationship. Another particularly touching story revolves around a submissive whose once-beautiful body had succumbed to illness and surgery and how her dominant helps remind her of her beauty through a public scene. Teresa Roberts penned “Beautiful,” which is one of the stories that truly stands out for me.

The one stand out story was one that managed to be both surprising, sentimental and sexy.  It’s another story by Corrin Arundo, whose work I obviously need to become more familiar with, entitled “Unanchored.” It was thoroughly titillating, like many of the other stories, but it struck an emotional chord with its solemn and sad ending that left me, quite literally, sobbing and perhaps even decimated. There is no snippet that can do the beauty of this story justice.

Just like there is no single story in this erotica collection that sums up the experience that is The Big Book of Submission. You need to dive in and read it all. Perhaps not in order, but there’s no single way to describe the experience.

A sincerely “Thank you!” to Cleis Press, the company that pretty much made my year, for the opportunity to review this book!

 

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A Brand Spanking New Idea

December 22nd, 2014

Spank my pussy

“What?” my request seems to pull him into the present. “Why?” He seems to consider.

“Because it will feel good”

He seems unsure but reaches out and playfully pats my lower lips.

“Like this?”

But that’s not at all like what I want.

“Harder.”

Another slap. Does less terrible count as good? I don’t think so. I didn’t my head”no.” It seems to make him think I’m challenging him on purpose but I’m not. He reaches out and suddenly smacks my cunt with a resounding and rewarding “thwack.”

He can’t even open his cocky mouth to ask if that’s what I want before I’m yelling “yes.” I know he was trying to prove a point but that’s exactly how I like it. He likes it too, I can tell.

“I see.” He seems to be processing the data. I can almost see the gears in good brain moving. He comes to the right decision when he decides to kneel between my legs and spank my pussy again.

And again.

And again.

Again and again.

Once more for good measure.

My pussy lips sting and I’m sure they’re red to look at, but it’s not just the external parts that have responded to his smacks. He slips his fingers inside me. First two, then three. We usually don’t do any more than that but then he pushes in another. It feels like there’s room for all of him inside of me I’m so wet.  He murmurs appreciatively at this, his fingers inside me working at my g-spot as he mirrors the movement with his thumb on my clit. It seems like it doesn’t take any time at all before I’m coming.

This becomes a regular thing and not just during sex. Whenever I can, I wear a skirt and he pushes it up around my hips. His fingers push my panties — if I’m wearing any — to the side side and he spanks my pussy. Sometimes he readjusts my panties and skirt and we go on about our lives.

Other times, he bends me over the nearest piece of furniture — the back of a love seat, a railing, a desk. And with my skirt hiked up over my hips, I spread my legs and he answers me from behind, thrusting deep into my cunt, which is wet from him spanking me. Neither of us seems to last long. Whether it’s from the spanking or the fact that we’re usually in a public place I don’t know. But we fuck our way to our impending orgasms before pulling my skirt back down around my thighs and I’m walking away like nothing happened.

It was his idea that we let someone else watcher but I wasn’t opposed. The more I thought about it, the hotter it sounded. So you put out an ad on Craigslist and waited for the right person to reply. I wasn’t positive if this was the best way to go about it, so I was surprised one day when we had not one but two responses that seemed realistic.

One was a woman, and aspiring dominant, who just wanted to see a little power play in person. She said she wanted to dress up the way she thought her future clients would enjoy and relax while she watch my partner spank my pussy. She didn’t even wanna join in, and it didn’t sound like it was going to arouse her but maybe that’s just what we needed our first time.

The other was a middle-aged man who made no secret of how erotic he found the entire situation. He wanted to watch and would it be too much to ask if he also jerked off? Since we were putting on a show and there would be no touching, we didn’t see anything wrong with it. We said “Yes” to them both.

We invited her over one afternoon. She arrived in a modest sedan. She was clad head to foot in a mixture of black leather and PVC. At first, I asked myself if this could be real. Did people really dressed like that? But here she was.

I made nervous small talk as I ushered her into our home. She sounded less confident than she looked, but she followed me, making polite comments about our decor. We stopped in the living room and I perched on the sofa. My partner entered with three glasses of wine, and I took one but she declined. She informed us that we could proceed whenever we wanted. I sipped at my wine to take the edge off, but I decided that it wasn’t going to get any less awkward.

I reached for my lover’s hands pulling him closer to me. As I lay back on the sofa, I pulled him down on top of me. We quickly kissed before he moved his way down my body, pulling my shorts and panties with him. By then his hands had gotten used to spreading my legs in preparation for the spanking. My body must have gotten used to this, too, because I could already feel myself getting wet.

He caressed the palm of his hand against my vulva and my clit in an attempt to calm me. I breathed deeply through my nose through my nose to allow the tension to leave my body. As I did this, the first smack landed on my skin. I squealed even though it was much lighter than I was accustomed to. With her eyes on us, everything seemed to feel more intense.

I saw her try not to flinch. I regained my composure when he hit me the second time and managed nothing but a small smile. She seem to follow my lead, sitting upright in our overstuffed armchair with her legs crossed in front of her. His eyes never strayed from me. He kept glancing between my face and my pussy. I could tell that he wanted to make sure it was still okay with this and that he would stop it at any moment if I indicated otherwise, but I wanted to continue.

What followed was a barrage of smacks, landing at different angles and intensities. He changed his method more than he typically did so I wouldn’t tired before we provided our strange guest with a satisfying show. I found the inconsistency arousing and could feel myself getting wetter. He would pause to rub my vulva,  and subtle eye contact revealed that he was well aware of my level of arousal. But like so many times before, it wasn’t going to go any further.

He finished the session with the series of loud and rapid spanks. Some of them even seem to echo off the walls and push my body away from him. I couldn’t help but gasp and moan. Our guest widened  her eyes at this approach. I don’t think she had anticipated that my lover was going to end with such a grand finale. When he finally stopped, I could tell from the heat between my legs that my pussy was glowing red. I knew I wasn’t going to put on another pair of panties until the next morning at the very least.

My partner stood up, slowly making eye contact with the stranger in our living room. He smiled and motioned at me.

“As you can see, she’s has quite enough.”

“Yes, I agree,” the woman replied as they both moved out of the room. I stayed where I was, forcing my heavy breathing to normalize. I heard the front door close in the other room and then his footsteps for coming back to me.

“Well, darling, how was that?” he asked if he approached me.

“It was different.” I was still processing. “But not bad.”

“Good,”he replied, One hand one his belt. He quickly undid the button and dropped those jeans around his feet. As he did this, his cock sprang free. It was hard and already a drop of precum glistened on the head. I hadn’t closed my legs and he took advantage of that to enter me. He was on top of me in one swift movement.

My labia burned, and with every thrust his day-old stubble felt like a million pins digging into my skin. But as much as it hurt, it felt twice as good. We had barely gotten settled before my arousal grew into an orgasm. As my muscles contracted around his cock, he couldn’t stop from coming either. We collapsed in a sweaty pile on our sofa.

With the first try a relative success, we decided to invite the man we met on Craigslist to our home. The more my mind played over the events with the reserved woman, the more it seemed liked something that I liked. And while I realized that, the man wanted to do a bit more, I felt bold enough to invite him into our private lives.

His eager replies plainly painted a picture of his voyeuristic tendencies. It was obviously too late for my partner and I to claim that we weren’t exhibitionists, but the woman we had met on our first encounter had been so passive that it almost hadn’t felt like we were putting on a show. I couldn’t help but wondered if she had judged me, my partner or us as a couple, but I had no idea. Either way, I felt as though I had to put on a show for the second go around.

I expressed a hesitant sort of excitement to my partner, who was quick to allay any lingering fears I might have. He was certain the second time would be even better than the first. So with a little trepidation and a little more alcohol in my system, we invited another stranger into our home.

While the fledgling domme might have been memorable due to her stereotypical garb, this man was entirely forgettable. He was like the sort of man who walks around in the background on TV shows: nondescript. He seemed the sort of polo-wearing IT professional that I’d have chatted with at work when my computer went down. In short, he was not intimidating.

He also wasn’t arousing. His presence in our home didn’t do anything for me. So as my partner helped me shimmy out of my skirt and panties, my lips weren’t swollen and glistening with my arousal. Nor did my nipples show any sign of excitement as he pushed the cups of my bra beneath my breasts.

My partner, observant and loving, seemed to notice this when his first few blows seemed to catch me off guard. My body remained tense, the impact uncomfortable. As I prepared for another, my lover shocked me by instead grabbing my ass and pulling my hips forward so that my clit met his mouth. His practiced tongue sliding along the side of my clit that always seemed to be more sensitive. I sighed and pushed my hips toward him, a sign that he correctly took for my finally being in the right head space.

As quickly as his oral attentions had begun, he pulled away and begun raining blows upon my cunt. His hand seem to hit the mark every time, sometimes making contact with his soft but strong palm. At other times, I could feel his knuckles against my clit and vulva, making sore the spots that had received the most contact.

I was thoroughly enraptured, my gaze intent upon his face as he administered his craft when I heard the jingle of the stranger’s pants. I had forgotten all about him, when I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye. As he rested in a chair, he’d unbuttoned and unzipped his khakis to reveal a hardon that was anything but forgettable. It was suddenly apparently where all the focus had gone during the creation of this man. His thick shaft and the perfectly contoured corona held my gaze for longer than I would have thought when he first walked into my living room.

As the man’s hand wrapped around his dick, my partner drew my attention back to him with a smack across the side of my face. My cheek stung, and I could suddenly smell the musk of myself so close to my nose.

“So you want a cock, do you?” His voice sounded stern, but I could see the glimmer in his eye.

Just like that first time he had spanked me, he was ready to take me, quickly pulling his belt free from its confines.  His jeans dropped to the ground around his ankles and his cock straining against perfectly-fitted boxer briefs. This hadn’t been part of the plan at all, but I couldn’t bring myself to say “No.”

Instead, I just nodded, and he knelt in front of the couch, pulling my legs around his hips so the tip of his cock could glide into my pussy. I bent my knees to hold him between my legs as tightly as possible. My nipples stood erect now, and somewhere in my periphery the stranger panted heavily as he worked his own cock.

My partner’s cock was buried in my cunt, slick with my juices and fitting perfectly like it always seemed to. While I was used to measured thrusts that would typically enable my partner to last longer, his own desire resulted in fervent strokes. His hips seemed to be moving quicker than my eyes could follow, but I could feel every time his hips pressed into mine and my labia burned after my spankings.  I had underestimated just how arousing this situation might be for him.

I imagined that the stranger’s eyes were glazed over just like those of my lover’s as he gaze somewhere over my shoulder. A few minutes of thrusting, and he was ready to come. But he hadn’t forgotten why we were here after all. Before he let himself be overtaken by a powerful orgasm, he reached out to slap my clit. I yelped, shocked, then moaned as this sudden smack brought on my own orgasm.

It was quick and shallow, but it was enough. My partner’s own orgasm seemed to burst from him, sapping him of strength as he collapse onto me. A jagged moan from across the room reminded us that we weren’t alone. This new stranger — as if you can call a man who has jerked off while watching you fuck a stranger! — had also come. His seed stained the front of his pants and dripped down his knuckles.

I managed to direct him to the bathroom sink. He nodded graciously before disappearing into the hallway. My partner lifted himself from me, and I pulled myself from the sofa, which I had almost seemed to become a part of. As he pulled his pants up, I grasped for my own clothes that were strewn upon the cushions.

His familiar smile was too much. I smiled back, feeling a warmth overcome my body and almost forgetting the burning of my pussy due to his spankings.

At that moment, the stranger reemerged, making his way toward the front door. He paused and turned to us, struggling for words.

“Thank you. That was,” an awkward pause, “something else.”

My lover nodded in the man’s direction. I remained motionless, unsure of the decorum that would be more appropriate in the situation. The stranger exited our home, quietly closing the door behind him. But I had a feeling that many more would use that door in the days to come.

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Penthouse Variations on Oral

December 18th, 2014

One of the newest books from Cleis Press, which has made me a very happy reviewer and reader this year, is “Penthouse Variations on Oral.” Oral sex is one of my favorites, which I’m sure can be said for many of you readers. Giving and receiving are both fun, and this collection of stories will hopefully provide a look into book.

The description is as follows

Mind-blowing oral sex can be the epitome of pleasure itself. Curated by the editors of the wildly popular Penthouse Variationsmagazine, this voracious volume goes deep into the throes of oral delight. Both new and well-known erotic writers satisfy the hungriest mouths while dishing up an array of below-the-belt feasts. In this collection of short stories, lovers explore the delicious ways oral sex can be an act of affection and tenderness, a testament to devotion, or an expression of pure, hot lust. Going down is an experience meant to be savored…and shared.

Alison Tyler, erotica editor and writer extraordinaire, is just one of the authors who you’ll read in this book. Her story, among others, might remind you of your own exploits or inspire you to try something new.

I tell you about all of this because I’ve been given the opportunity to give one of you a chance to win a copy of this book to add to your shelf or nightstand.

Enter using the widget below.

Good luck!

Penthouse Variations on Oral

Open to US.

Giveaway ends December 31.

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6 Year Blog Anniversary Giveaway (Multiple Prizes)

July 17th, 2014

Perhaps it is fitting than for the six years I’ve been writing Of Sex and Love, I will be able to celebrate with six prizes to six different winners. It was unintentional. And I may throw in some Babeland gift cards, too. And I may get a few more sponsors before I finally post this, so it’s not that I can’t count, you guys.

So, this is my way of saying thank you. For visiting. Commenting. Emailing. Following through broken domains and weird Tumblr situations. For sticking it out even when I wasn’t sure that I wanted to. Thank you for listening to me even when I didn’t know how to write a review or how to explain female ejaculation or how bad “silicone composites” were.

A lot can change in 6 years. A lot has changed. And it’s interesting because I’m not entirely sure that I’ve changed anything in the world. Not as Adriana. But the lessons of sex positivity and feminism that this corner of the blogosphere has imparted on me are something that I take with me as my “real” self.  I’m known as the resident “sexpert” and militant feminist. I didn’t see at least one of those things coming.

And I certainly wouldn’t take it back.

No, I’m here to give to you guys for making this all possible. The prizes are pretty awesome, if I do say so myself!

Special thank you to Lelo, Lovehoney, Pipedream, SheVibe, Cleis Press and Good Vibes for providing them!

Awesome giveaway prizes!

Awesome giveaway prizes!

  • From Lelo, the award-winning Ora, which I reviewed and liked quite a bit. International winners are eligible, save for residents of India.
  • SheVibe is proud to offer a $50 gift card to one winner in England, USA, Australia or Canada.
  • The kind folks at Good Vibes will ship one winner a Minna Limon vibrator to someone in the USA or Canada.
  • From Pipedream, both the  Icicles No. 52 and  Ceramix #4 will go to an American winner.
  • Cleis Press is graciously going to send one American winner The Big Book of Submission
  • Crystal Delights Toys is offering one of their glass plugs in the winner’s choice of gem.
  • From UberKinky comes the Fetish Fantasy Bed Bindings Under Bed Restraints Kit.
  • And, finally, Lovehoney has joined me in this giveaway with the  Bettie Page Picture Perfect Spanking Paddle to someone in the US, Canada or UK.

You can enter for multiple toys but you can only win one. If I pull your name for a giveaway, you cannot win another, but you can feel free to enter for more than one and show support for each of the sponsors.

You can come back every day to do things like tweet, and you can do this for each prize.

Good luck!

Lelo Ora
Lelo Ora

Minna Limon

Minna Limon

Icicles #52/Ceramix #4
Icicles No. 52 and Ceramix #4

Bettie Page Spanking Paddle

Bettie Page Picture Perfect Spanking Paddle
The Big Book of Submission The Big Book of Submission

Crystal Delights Glass Plug
Crystal Delights Plug

Fetish Fantasy Bed Bindings Under Bed Restraints Kit

Fetish Fantasy Bed Bindings Under Bed Restraints Kit

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Flying High: Sexy Stories from the Mile High Club [Review + Giveaway]

May 6th, 2014

Flying High
$15.95 from Amazon

Now, I’m not a member of the mile high club, but I think there’s something to be said for having sex on airplanes. Otherwise, why would so many people fantasize about it? I imagine it has something to do with being able to have sex with so many people around and not having them notice or, if it’s your thing, because you want them to notice. Perhaps the challenge of having sex in such a small place only makes the adrenaline run faster. Some people might rely on the release and reward of sex to calm their flying nerves or pass the time, which certainly seems to crawl by when you’re 30,000 feet above sea level with nothing but clouds out your window.

However, writing about sex on airplanes certainly presents another challenge. How do you make your story stand apart from those written by others? Indeed, I imagine that Rachel Kramer Bussel saw many similar themes, but the editor at Cleis Press was able to pull together enough stories to create an anthology that remains interesting and less than redundant. Although, I wouldn’t necessarily recommend reading the book in one sitting as it could become rather mundane.

Flying High does a good job of providing us with situations — strangers meeting on an airplane for sex, cybersex on airplanes, voyeurism, masturbation airlines and more — to keep things interesting. Many of the authors have added fantasy elements, which keep the stories in the book from being more of the same.

Like I said, I understand why sex on an airplane is appealing to some even though it’s not number one on my list of sexual acts to do. So I was pleasantly surprised when I opened the pages of this book and began enjoying it right off the bat. In fact the first story by Bill Kte’pe, one in which two couples who met online have arranged for a sexual rendezvous in the sky, is one of the most memorable of the book. It helps the book take flight without a hitch. The surprise ending adds to the story in my opinion, but I won’t spoil it for you.

Like any anthology, not every story in Flying High was for more. I skipped over one or two completely. In some cases, the airplane is really almost inconsequential. In stories like “Top Banana,” being on an airplane and one operated by a specific airline creates a recurring theme. In that particular story, Craig Sorensen relies on the theme to craft an interesting story and colorful visuals with an ending that I didn’t quite see coming — no pun intended.

The style and skill of the authors in Flying High varies as much as the particular plots of the stories. Some were simply not to my liking, and others seemed a little inexperienced or lacking the subtlety that I think makes a good story. However, they all brought something different to the table. Flying High might not be a book that you reach for constantly, but it’s worth checking out if you have a thing for the mile high club, especially if you’re not quite bold enough to go there yourself.

 

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Pink Lips and Other Stories for Girls Only

February 12th, 2014

I’ve reviewed quite a few erotica anthologies in the past, but I’ve taken a break because I don’t always like them. The nice thing about anthologies is the idea that there are plenty of themes and styles to choose from. However, this isn’t really the case for Pink Lips and Other Stories for Girls Only, which might be why this isn’t the book for me.

My issue is that every story in this anthology is by the same author so they all have similar themes and word usages — and I just don’t like them.

Each story tends to go like this. A young/college-aged woman who is interested in other women and has little to no experience with them. She tends to have a sport appearance with a “tight” ass and breasts that are small-but-proportionate for her size.  Her partners tend to take control and every story seems to use the term “hot bitch.” I tried to give this book a fair shake, but it’s just too hard when I don’t like the way the author writes.

But there’s something else going on there. I can’t quite put my finger on it. Maybe it’s that it just seems not.. genuine. It’s like watching “lesbian” porn full of inch-long French manicures and scissoring. It’s not really about women who like women; it’s like a man who has never witness real, enjoyable sex between two women is writing erotica about lesbian encounters.

And I can’t say this is true, but this is the sense that I get. The author has been quoted as saying that these stories mix fantasy with some real experiences, but this just isn’t the gist I get. And if it is, perhaps the author should have used more fantasy elements because the anthology comes off a bit too Mary Sue.

Another issue I ran into was simply poor writing. Things like “she  was real wet.” It demonstrates a weak grasp on language, on poetry. If I am paying for something, this should not be a case. An editor somewhere should have caught this and sent it back for revision.

All of these things are so very.. distracting. This makes “Pink Lips” the type of read that I couldn’t finish let alone recommend or pick up again.

I feel bad writing this, but people on Twitter have assured me that I shouldn’t. After all, you open yourself up to criticism. Perhaps other people will like this book more, but it just isn’t my thing.

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