Isn’t that a beautiful poster?
The world of erotica is gearing itself up for Eroticon 2013 in London next weekend. I’m running a writing workshop on the Saturday morning. My blurb says:
“Kristina Lloyd explores how to use imagery, setting and take risks with language to enrich your fiction and add layers of meaning. We’ll examine how the pleasure found in words used both within and outside a ‘sex scene’ can enhance the overall eroticism of a piece. There will be short writing exercises aimed at sparking new ways of thinking.”
I’m also reading on the Saturday evening alongside some fabulous writers (see beautiful poster!). There’s a PDF of the 9 – 5pm schedule and tix are still available! There are heaps of sessions I’m keen to attend. I’m also looking forward to catching up with authors I get to see once in a blue moon, meeting new people and just generally hanging out with creative, sex-positive folk.
In other news, I’m this week’s author on the Filthy Friday series from Sh!. I’ve offered up a key excerpt from one of my latest stories, The Bondage Pig, published in Alison Tyler‘s Big Book of Bondage. This story has been getting some great comments. Kiki DeLovely gave the piece a wonderful review (and reckoned mine was the dirtiest story in the anthology), and Sharon Wachsler (who’s giving away two copies of the anthology) described The Bondage Pig as “a masterpiece [...] suspenseful, creepy, dirty, and surprisingly sweet.”
It’s quite an unusual story. Hop on over to the Sh! blog and take a ride on my pig!
Finally, I got my man! I’m absolutely delighted with this cover and hugely grateful to my editor and her team at Black Lace for working so hard on it. My opinion was sought and Gillian completely took on board my belief we should have more men on the covers of erotic fiction.
Isn’t he swell? And what a whistle! I love her thrill-seeking hand. It’s such a neat representation of active female desire. Really, really happy with this!
If you want to warm up your winter with some scorchingly hot prizes, please polish your spy glasses and join us on The Sh! Christmas Pleasure Hunt!
From today (Friday 7th) until Monday (10th), twelve erotica authors will be secreting pieces of information on their blog posts. Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to follow the trail, collect this info and enter a draw to win all kinds of awesome stuff!
Sh! is a shop much loved by erotica authors in the UK and US. Not only does the store sell an amazing range of top-quality products and sexy books, the Sh! Girlz are hugely supportive of what we do as writers. Many of us have been involved in readings at the London store, and have been lucky enough to sample the Sh! Girlz’ cupcakes! Time Out voted Sh! London’s best sex shop for women. We couldn’t agree more.
Last week, the Sh! website was down, thanks to the curmudgeonly efforts of crackers. Happily, the site is now back, as proudly pink as ever, and so, in the words of the song, December Will be Magic Again!
To celebrate, we’re hosting our Christmas Pleasure Hunt and Sh! are kicking off their Filthy Friday!
Authors playing along are: Janine Ashbless, Justine Elyot, Kay Jaybee, KD Grace, Lexie Bay, Lily Harlem, Lucy Felthouse, Remittance Girl, Sommer Marsden, Tabitha Rayne, Tamsin Flowers, Victoria Blisse
That’s quite a line up, no? The aim of the game is to find a word from the following Kate Bush lyric in a post from each of our participating authors:
Come to sparkle the dark up …Come to cover the muck up
That word will link to a sexy Sh! product. Check out the link, note down the price. At the end of the hunt, add up all 12 prices you’ve collected. That total is your answer!
After Monday, email your answer (the total price of all linked products) to Sh! (firstname.lastname@example.org). All correct answers will go into a draw. One lucky winner gets a bumper bag of goodies from Sh! Thirteen runners up will receive a book (print or digital) from one of the authors on board (including me). It’s a snowfall of smut!
Check out their sites later today to find your hidden word! We’re posting worldwide, so anyone can play. We hope you’ll join us, no matter how good or bad you’ve been this year!
MONDAY 10TH UPDATE: Check out the Sh! Blog to piece the treasure hunt together! They’ve been keeping track. Have you?
I love those rich, fireside colours – hot enough to warm your hands by. And I reckon our chap has rather excellent hand-warming (and the rest) properties too.
Edited by Kristina Wright, Lustfully Ever After gives a romantic, erotic twist to a range of fairy tales, and features stories from Emerald, Shanna Germain, Donna George Storey, Charlotte Stein, Sacchi Green, Lisabet Sarai and more.
The only story I’ve read so far is Charlotte Stein’s You, a beautifully written, strange and memorable tale of a half-man, half-beast thing and an innocent(ish!) young woman in a forest. I’m looking forward to delving deeper into the book.
My story, The Last Dance, is a fun, contemporary reworking of The Twelve Dancing Princesses and features 12 identical sisters (dodecaplets, I decided) made famous by a reality TV series called Full House. There are 12 boyfs and some jolly fun identity confusion. Kind of like Shakespeare in a London disco but dirtier. The story culminates in a ‘scorching hot’ (says the back cover) MFM threesome. Here’s an excerpt in which Lily, wearing a stolen invisibility cloak, stumbles upon two guys, both of whom she’s had her eye on (and once, her mouth), getting it on in a nightclub.
The cloakroom was large and L-shaped, an extravagant room tiled in Egyptian green, with honey-colored benches and golden lockers, coats on rails waiting to be reanimated by their owners. Sure enough, tucked away around the corner was Gilchrist. But this time he wasn’t resting, not by a long shot. He was standing, his head tipped back, his eyes closed. As ever, because he has a wonderful theatrical streak, he was wearing a military jacket, this one a deep indigo adorned with silver buttons. Again it was open, his chest bared. He was naked from the waist down. His elegant hands, tipped with shell-pink nails, were resting lightly on the flame-red curls of my newly visible journalist friend who was on his knees, shirt off, lips wrapped around Gilchrist’s cock.
I stared like a slack-jawed idiot. My heart and hopes went up-down, up-down, much like Mr Visible’s mouth. My thoughts veered from a fear I’d lost my guys to man-love, to a brand new awareness that, wowzers, this scene was horny. My groin thumped with lust, my lips swelling fast. I drew closer, worried that the drumming of my heart might alert them to my presence.
Mr Vee’s hands were clamped to Gilchrist’s thighs, his skin pale and stark against the velvety darkness of my darling. Well, my sister’s darling, technically speaking. Rich, purplish shadows hollowed out the dip in Gilchrist’s buttocks, and he seemed so sturdy and corporeal compared to the kneeling beauty whose shoulder muscles shifted under translucent, blue-tinged skin, his armpit hair a wisp of fire. Gilchrist was a mighty storm and Vee was a forest wraith, strong but otherworldly.
Gilchrist groaned quietly and clasped his lover’s head, his dark fingers sliding through Vee’s russet curls. He held him close on the downstroke and Vee, adjusting his position, edged towards Gilchrist’s black-haired crotch, slow and steady, until he’d taken him throat-deep. “Oh, mate,” croaked Gilchrist, eyes shut, knuckles blanching, “hold it there, oh fuck, that’s good.”
Vee’s neck bulged with the effort. My cunt pulsed as I remembered how Gilchrist had directed me to do similar. I moved closer, prepared to run the risk of discovery in return for the joy of being near them. They looked edible, like ginger snaps, licorice, brown sugar and ice-cream, but man-sized and a lot less sweet. They smelled of skin and beer, of being underground for too long. I wanted to taste them, and so I did, leaning in to lick Gilchrist from the base of his spine to his neck, careful to touch him with nothing but my tongue. He was warm and salty, and he made the strangest sound, arousal warped by disbelief. I blew on the back of his neck then stood on tiptoe to stream cool air across his gleaming, stubble-shadowed head.
He moaned again and dusted the back of his head as if an insect were bothering him. I dodged his hand, ducking sideways to see his thick length slide from the grip of Vee’s mouth, his shaft cabled with dark violet veins, saliva lending him a silvery sheen. Avoiding Vee, I cupped Gilchrist’s balls, fondling their shifting weight, making him moan. He didn’t seem to know or care that my touch was surplus to possibility.
…right there, from wetness to stubble. I want to tongue the sweep of his shoulder blade, trace the curve behind his ear then taste the scrape of his jaw.
This is my 100th post! I have exciting publishing news on the horizon but not allowed to share yet. *drums fingers*