Roxy Katt's Blog, page 4

Editor: Tristan Taormino

Publisher: Cleis Press

Date: 2011

I feel like I should have reviewed this book ages ago, but better late than never.  This anthology has been out for five years now, and my first question is, why are there not more than 14 reviews at Amazon.com and none before mine at Amazon.ca? Not that that 14 is not a goodly number, but this book deserves more of them. I suspect the answer is that there are so many crappy erotica books out there that the good ones get buried amongst the dreck. And even when the good books are not exactly buried, they do not necessarily gain the prominence they deserve.

This is one of the ones that deserves such prominence. And let me not hesitate to say, even five years after its publication, work like this is still very much needed. This is a snappy and well written collection of transgender erotic tales which are in no way lacking in three-dimensional character development. Taken all together, these stories seem to amount to a kind of mini education in the world of hot transgender sex. This is a work that goes way beyond simply presenting characters with various manifestations of transgender identity or what they do in bed: it shows them as individual human beings, and not as two-dimensional erotic “types” such as “dick chicks,” and so on.

This is a text that radicalizes and re-imagines how we look at our own genitals and bodies and how they connect to who we are. The stories range from hot, but realistic tales to hot but more fantastical narratives, such as one of my personal favourites here: “Dixie Belle the Further Adventures of Huckleberry Finn” by Kate Bornstein, who is probably best known for her ground breaking book, GENDER OUTLAW (1994). Written in the style of Mark Twain, the story postulates Huck Finn becoming a sex worker in drag and loving every minute of it. And this is not just a cute idea, by the way, but marvellously well executed, with a genuine feel for Twain’s prose.

One really does not need to be transgendered, by the way, to enjoy these stories. Hot sex and the human psyche. What more can you ask?

Want a chance to win a free copy of my Naughty Tales of Leather and Latex?

It’s easy.  Just go to the Wordwooze entry page.  Enter your name and email.  In the “message” box enter “Naughty Tales” and whether you prefer pdf or mobi.  The contest starts today and runs until May 20.

Naughty Tales of Leather & Latex is a trilogy of laugh out loud adventures by yours truly, with my unique blend of slapstick lesbian fetish humor.  My heroines often find themselves inadvertently entangled in scenarios featuring leather or latex clad women, embarrassing predicaments, and comical sexual liaisons. You will never think of fetish attire in quite the same way after reading “The Space MILF,” Rubber Space Academy, and “The Problem of Leather.”

This book is an imaginative frolic in the Otaku world, featuring one Kevin (or Kebinu-kun, as he insists upon as his otaku name).  His life is, in a comical way, what one might expect from an anime obsessed nerd.  He still lives with his mom despite being around thirty, and spends much of his time masturbating.  Things change when he encounters his 2D anime heroine, Akane Matsunaga, as she magically enters the 3D world.

The writing here is unlike the prose of most erotica, which tends to make me groan, and not in a good way.  What I mean is, what is so common in the erotica world is that even when there are no grammatical errors the sentences tend to be lifeless and dead.  They merely get the characters from point A to point B, and position the body parts according to requirements.  Not so here.  Sakura Von Sternberg writes with a light spark, a swiftly moving touch.  The prose does its job (with skillful use of third and first person narration employed) but it’s a pleasure to read, and not just during the dirty bits.

Much of the strength of this book is the comical writing and the imaginative supernatural nature of the situation.  In our culture, characters like Kebinu-kun are portrayed usually in purely derisory and satirical terms.  Okay, but is there not at least a little of Kebinu-kun in many of us? But while the satire is clear in Von Sternberg’s book, it is good natured.

He had long cultivated a reputation on message boards and YouTube comments sections as “that pillow-humping scold.”

So what is erotica generally thought to do?  Well, it can transport us imaginatively into the lives of sexual superheroes and heroines, but it can also represent just as sexily the lives of those commonly thought to be not so hot, and put them in very hot situations.  Once the sweet and innocent looking Akane appears for real in Kebinu-kun’s life, he is on the receiving end of some pretty fierce BDSM action.  In that respect, the title of the book sums it all up accurately.

But more on the comedy here, from a point in the story where Akane is still only, apparently, a lifeless pillow:

It wasn’t long before Kebinu-kun learned the truth: there was nothing some self-professed “real woman” could give him that his waifu could not.  What could these 3D pigs ever offer him?  Sex?  Please.  Give him a bottle of Jergens and some doujinshi scans and he could contend himself with the old five-knuckle shuffle.  Companionship?  Whatever.  Why spend all night lying in bed next to some snoring, big-breasted wildebeest when you could sleep with a hug pillow tucked between your legs?

Kebinu-kun is later described as a “mouth-breathing fuck-nugget with all the grace and poise of Dick Van Dyke trapped in a room full of ottomans.”

Hilarious comedy here and sound pegging action.  Highly recommended.

51 pages

This is lesbian erotica in a Blade Runner world with overtones of Thomas Pynchon’s V  (think of Lady V herself, with her clockwork eye and her shadowy past).  In a dystopian San Francisco where impoverished people are drafted once their money runs out, two women find love.  I will confess that my own interests when it comes to mechanized erotica have to do more with women in robot suits or suits of armour, but what we have here is erotica of the bionic variety.  So as not to give away too much, I will not say what body part or parts we are talking about, suffice it to say that M. Christian does this with considerable skill.

Actually, M. Christian’s story is skilled in one of the hardest to master arts of erotica writing: how to write long sex scenes without being repetitive.

I found this book a pleasant surprise.  The sex was good at first, but not only did it get even better, the story itself became deeper and more significant.  M. Christian is clearly not limited to descriptions of hot sex, but can tell a story with deeper meaning as well.  There is a distinctively noirish air to this one.

Highly recommended.

Ryan, a geeky technology apprentice student, is determined to lose his virginity. Shy by nature, his lack of experience with women has left him unfamiliar with ideas other than vanilla sex. In his search for his ideal girl, he seeks out those he deems normal, only to be faced with and turned off by their sexual kinks. After failed attempts with two classic beauties, Ryan takes a chance on the oddball, discovering that normal is relative, and that he and his ideal girl are anything but vanilla.

Angora Shade is an American author living in what she lovingly refers to as “Sheep Shit Nowhere” Europe. In an attempt to add some spice to her small town life, Ms. Shade began writing explicit erotica and romance as a form of self-entertainment. Exploring the boundaries of acceptable sexual literature, she often seeks to create stories that not only entertain others, but also expose and push against the negative stigma surrounding sex in modern day society. She believes that sex in literature, art, personal thought, and physical nature, should be celebrated and expressed openly and as easily as any God-given freedom. Her favorite themes in writing include revenge, self-discovery, alternative materials for love play/BDSM, as well as anything that produces a good tingle, sizzle, or laugh. When not writing, Ms Shade enjoys red wine, travel, dancing, classic cartoons, baking, and creating fine art.

Author Links:

Blog: http://www.angorashade.blogspot.com

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/angorashadeauthor

Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/angorashade

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/8105324.Angora_Shade  

Excerpt:

“Cream makes me rabid,” she purrs at him, her voice low and controlled. She looks up at his face, watching for his reaction, feeling his lips clamp around her finger as she pulls it back out of his mouth completely clean.

Ryan adjusts his glasses again and flattens himself up against the wall of aprons as she pushes up against him. She deliberately pushes her bust into him, enjoying the wide-eyed and uncertain expression on his face. He barely opens his mouth in time as she forces her creampuff toward him, smearing a wide ring of white around his lips and cheeks. He chews and swallows what he manages to take into his mouth and then stands frozen, like a prey animal crossing the road, caught in headlights.

Beth laughs softly. “Oh dear, look what I’ve done.”

She pushes her hand against his chest and feels the hard outline of his pectoral muscles. She’s secretly pleased, thinking he must work out, and she digs her fingernails lightly into the cotton fabric of his white polo. Parting her lips, she rises up slightly on her tiptoes and slips her tongue between her teeth, taking a long, slow, labored lick from the corner of his mouth.

“I’ve made a clean spot,” she taunts as she comes to rest flat against the floor.

Pressing her perky breasts into him a bit harder, she rises up a second time, sliding against the resistance of their clothing and back to his face. She feels him shudder, and his arms twitch at his sides. She’s ecstatic; growing even wetter between her thighs, eagerly licking from the bottom of Ryan’s chin and up over his mouth. The quiver upon his lips sets her alight, and she can’t help but discard the creampuff to the floor and

run her hands up over his shoulders. She hates kissing him so desperately but mentally shakes her impatience away, giving in to the moment completely.

Remaining cream smears across them both. Beth can taste it as her lips pucker and part, and then make contact again. She loves the way Ryan kisses her back, undisturbed by the sweet addition of cream sliding between them. It doesn’t even bother her how hesitant and nervous his kisses are. It’s just the way she likes it. A hesitant man knows his place. A hesitant man will do what he’s told.

Beth pulls back from Ryan’s lips and drags her hands from the tops of his shoulders, down his arms to his hands. Pulling him gently away from the wall, she moves backward toward the table. Feeling her lower buttocks bump the edge, she stops and brings Ryan’s hands up to her breasts. She feels him stiffen when his skin makes contact with the worn fabric of her apron, his palms easily swallowing her average bust. A slight push into them, she sighs and reaches out to grab his face.

“Bet-h-h…” he stutters into her mouth.

She spins Ryan around and kisses him with intense force. He stumbles, and Beth is pleased to hear a satisfying rumble as the heavy table behind them shifts a bit over the floor as he stumbles into it. Ryan’s arms instinctively reach behind himself and away from her in search of stability, irritating her. She smacks him hard across the face; angry his attention would waver over such an insignificant thing like balance. His glasses come askew, slipping down the bridge of his nose.

Ryan straightens up. Shocked to attention, he pushes his glasses back to their rightful position. Surprise burns equally in his eyes as on the abused skin of his cheek. He stares blankly at her a moment, and then looks down at his feet. “Beth, this—”

She breaks him off midsentence with a second slap across his other cheek. Harder this time, the action stings her hand, and seeing the flushing red of her force upon his skin causes tingles of lust in her nether region.

She sees his emotions flowing between confusion, frustration, and desire, causing her to lick her lips in greedy anticipation as she reaches to the table for another creampuff. Bringing it up to his mouth, she again forces him to take a bite.

Creampuff in his mouth or not, he stares at her, speechless. Clearly Ryan has no idea how to respond. She doesn’t blame him. She knows her looks are deceiving. Blonde, tan, and delicately boned like the traditional Baywatch beauty, she muses she’s transformed before his eyes from a deliciously attractive coworker into some crazed and famished hell kitten. Surely he’s never been struck before—at least not by a girl—and she secretly hopes he enjoys the sting on his face she continues to feel in her hand.

Ryan swallows the bite without taking his eyes from hers. Smiling at him, she reaches behind her head with her free hand and undoes the knot of her apron from around her neck. It falls to her waist, folding over at the bow upon her lower back, revealing a white cotton shirt with a low-dipping V-neck. Beth takes a bite of the creampuff and then squishes it flat against her exposed cleavage.

“Oops,” she says innocently, raising her eyebrows and drawing her lips together like a pouty child. “I’m dirty.”

She watches Ryan gulp. The air in the room feels electric with anticipation, almost supercharged with explosive energy. He stands stiff and immobile as she feels his erection push softly into her torso. In order to help ease his shyness, she takes charge again, reaching both her hands up to his face, removing his glasses and setting them onto the tabletop. His eyes wander with her movements but come back to her face as she pulls and guides his head with both her hands down to the sticky mess on her chest.

“Clean me up,” Beth commands.

Ryan’s eyes, still wet and glassy from the power of her smack, dance from her face to her chest as he slowly bends his neck. Beth wishes she could hear him thinking—hopefully something naughty, dirty, or negative about her aggressive actions—if only to have a reason to smack him again.

Naughty Tales of Leather & Latex is a trilogy of laugh out loud adventures by yours truly, the self-proclaimed cultural Bolshevik, who has a unique lust for writing what can best be described as slapstick lesbian fetish humor.  My heroines often find themselves inadvertently entangled in scenarios featuring leather or latex clad women, embarrassing predicaments, and comical sexual liaisons. You will never think of fetish attire in quite the same way after reading The Space MILF, Rubber Space Academy, and The Problem of Leather.

Get it on the Kindle here!

It’s been a while since I’ve published any new work.  Alas, the day job and folderol of daily life get in the way.  But now Rubber Cat Burglar is available at EXCESSICA.  This is my first story with them, and it’s a futa tale.  Yes, I’m expanding my repertoire.  Most of my fiction is F/F, though you may be familiar with “Cream and Punishment,” my humiliation story about a futa shoplifter.  Rubber Cat Burglar is the tale of a proud, rubber suited futa cat burglar, who encounters a superheroine in the midst of the burglary.   Has our villainess met her match?

Lots of rubber, and catfighting, and … meowr!

An excerpt from Naughty Book Snitch’s review of my Rubber Space Academy:

“I laughed so much that my family had to come and check on me because they thought I was crying. Hahaha! I thought it was really funny and strangely erotic. Is this for everyone? Hell no! Will people with an open mind who can deal with a little erotic fetish that may not be specifically in their kink bucket enjoy this? Yes, I think so. This is a fascinating journey though Titus Bysshe Women���s Space Academy, with a horny and sexually repressed lesbian who leaves a trail of women hogtied and sexually deviated. I thoroughly enjoyed this and will read this author again.”

You can find the full review here.

This is just a wee excerpt from “The City Pony,” one of three sexy F/F stories in my latest release, Stuck Fetish Frenzy.�� (Available at Amazon and Smashwords)

I first meet her alone in an elevator in the morning as I start work. It���s one of those skyscrapers that never seems to stop going up. I���ve gotten a job as a maintenance person and have my bland coveralls on, my little cart with its detergents and garbage containers and all… tap tap tap she steps in lightly just as the doors are about to close.

She is short and feisty and cute as a bug���s ear. I���ve never seen her before but it���s almost as if she was expecting to meet me, yes, me in particular, in this elevator right now. She has a very cute round head that seems just a little too big for her body and short, spiky orange hair. It���s almost the air of an anime figure she has about her.

She���s lean, but not washboard lean if you know what I���m saying. Her tummy really strains at that skirt. It���s a knee-length leather skirt, a classy wine red. A tight black sweater too, very nice. She smiles at me, almost conspiratorially, impish, innocent.

���They say you���re from Alberta. Is that right?��� She���s eating what seems like a giant apple, too big for her little hand.

���Yes.���

���Ever roped a cow?���

���Roped a cow? You mean a steer, don���t you?���

���Whatever.���

���My family are farmers. Not ranchers���

���Whatever,��� she smiles. ���As long as you feed everybody.��� Crunch with the apple. ���Ever wear a cowgirl hat?���

���Not often.���

���You���d look good in one. You know how to ride?���

���Yeah,��� I say.

���Sexy. Riding is very sexy.���

���You have something for cowgirls, maybe?���

���Maybe. What do you think of the Big Smoke?���

���You mean the smoke you���re blowing up my ass?���

���Nice one. Toronto.���

���It���s okay, I guess.���

���Don���t you mean ���I reckon���?���

���I left that kind of talk behind with my raft.���

���With your raft?���

���And my overalls while I was sailing down the Mississippi.���

���Really? I didn���t know that river ran through Alberta.���

���The Mississippi is a mighty big river,��� I say.

���Alberta���s big too.���

���Exactly. They���re bound to come together at some point.���

���And that point was where you left behind your overalls.���

���Yes���m.���

���What were you wearing under that?��� Crunch.

���Why, long johns of course.���

���With the buttoned flap in the back?���

���What else?���

���Naughty naughty.���

���I don���t imagine you wear them in Toronto, but out West the flap is for strictly practical purposes.���

���I���ll bet it is. Naughty!���

���In the outhouse, I mean.���

���Even naughtier!���

She puts her hand on her lower tummy. ���All those burgers you make for us have made me poochy. It���s your fault, cowgirl.���

She is anything but poochy. Vain city girl! She is nice and firm. ���Burgers don���t come from farms. They come from ranches.���

���I���ll have to wear a girdle some day, thanks to you.���

���Is that what city girls do? Eat burgers and wear girdles? I thought you were all feminists out here.���

���Meat eating feminists in girdles. Really tight girdles, cowgirl, girdles ready to explode under the pressure of our city girl eastern feminist lust. Take care, honey.��� She steps out of the elevator, stops, turns her head slightly, whinnies over her shoulder like a horse in the most shockingly convincing way and she is gone.

I am a little wet.

This delightful erotic anthology contains three of my stories: “The City Pony,” “The Lay of the Grecian Urn,” and “The Trumpet of Destiny.” Whether or not you have a fetish for women getting stuck head first in things, you will enjoy these hot and comical female on female stories of unusual bondage and humiliation.�� You can purchase this book at Amazon or Smashwords, at half the price you would pay for all three stories separately.

What the hell is “stuck fetishism,” you ask?�� Well, the most common form of it seems to involve women getting stuck in gum or glue, or any kind of sticky substance.�� Another form of stuck fetishism involves women in cars that are stuck in mud.�� But neither sub-genre is my particular form of stuck fetish.�� In this latest work of mine I have collected three of my stories which center on the erotic idea of women getting stuck headfirst in things.�� But don’t worry.�� Even if this odd idea does not turn you on, the stuck stuff occurs in the context of comical bondage and humiliation (all woman on woman, BTW).

Just in case you are not into stuck fetishism per se, I really don’t know how to explain how it is that I am.�� The only thing I can come up with is that certain strange things in cartoons made a mark on me when I was a kid.�� But why did those cartoons get to me when they obviously did not have the same effect on millions of others?�� There’s no way to know, I guess.