Best Lesbian Erotica 2012, edited by Kathleen Warnock and guest judge (and one of my favorite writers) Sinclair Sexsmith, is now on the shelves! I confirmed by checking out both a Barnes and Noble and a local feminist bookshop (I highly recommend you patronize your local independent/feminist bookshop as they’re a dying breed, constantly struggling to stay afloat)–my beloved Women and Children First in Chicago.
Best Lesbian Erotica 2011 was the very first publication where I submitted my work (and also, quite fortunately for me, the first to accept one of my stories). And so being included in this year’s edition feels like the first year of publishing my words has come full circle. Also, for the second year in a row, I got a mention on the back cover. So very exciting! I feel deeply grateful. And proudly humble.
My piece, entitled “Heartfirst,” is my favorite work that I’ve published to date. Here’s a little taste:
I move my hips in a tight figure eight and grind harder against her thigh, my juices gushing down her leg. She begins to grunt, “Oh God…” but before she’s even made it to the second word, I’m pressing my hip into her sex, and then she’s adding a few syllables to a monosyllabic word, elongating the moan buried mid-oh while I draw out her pleasure. I wrap my mouth around her tit. My tongue delighting in how its efforts are rewarded by the feel of her nipple tightening, beginning to rise, pleading for more. I graze my teeth against it, reaching over to pinch and slightly twist the other one, bite down and then release. I bring my free hand to my lips and slip two fingers into my mouth. A slow, deliberate extraction, they glisten prettily with my spit in the low light. I lower them between her thighs, as I watch her face for clues. Easing my fingers into her ass first, working them against her g-spot until she’s wordlessly begging me to slide into her cunt.
I delve in heartfirst, straight down to a deep, well-hidden place. It scares her to no end, yet she grants me access. I know even before her tears surface, that I had found her inner aquifer. I reached the seemingly unattainable place inside her and saturated it with love and all things beautiful, filling her in ways she didn’t think possible; making it known that I treasure and adore all of her. Her multi-layered, gorgeous self; her powerful presence; her exquisitely soft underbelly. No matter what the world has told her—I have delivered the message that she is strong and sweet and capable and good. And right. So very, very right. In all of who she is, in exactly how she makes her way through the world. She is praise-worthy and perfect. Which is not to say she is unflawed. There are fights in our future about toothpaste and how she wasn’t there for me that time. But now, in this very moment, I am loving her so completely. Every drop of her, prized and celebrated.