You just put your lips...

Take a deep breath because you're going to need it. Tomorrow launches the first annual Blow Hard Blog Tour. Sommer Marsden (a k a Smut Girl) will deal the first blow -- I'm just giving you a little head start. In the meanwhile time to bone up, perhaps in front of a mirror.

Me on YOU!

My most excellent friend, writer Donna George Storey, has been examining different aspects of the writing life in a kind of intime online writers' workshop and has focussed on the second-person narrative voice for the past few days.

I weighed in, having written a few stories from that POV -- one that is curiously almost universally maligned -- including a little tale entitled "The Lonely Onanista," which has enjoyed some success despite the fact that it uses a voice one is supposed to avoid at all costs.

I said that in my mind the YOU of second-person placed any prospective reader right in the "driver's seat" -- a good thing! They'd just land there from above, in position -- sitting, knees bent, hands up with fingers curled as if already gripping the steering wheel -- like in old television commercials. (Or am I making that part up?)

I go into some detail about the background of the story and why I chose that particular voice to tell it.

Check it out, you!

And thank YOU, Donna, for giving us more food for thought!

Thank YOU, Erobintica, for the video inspiration!

All-Day Suckers! Coming Soon...

Yesterday I was just a cock tease but now I can blow my cover. I've joined an all-girl team of contented cocksuckers for the Blow Hard 2009 Blog Tour. Beginning March 31st, this itinerant 12-day blow job feast will sing the praises of suckage -- from the mouth of one sated fellatrix at a time -- so wipe your calendar clean!

Our bush league has some pretty heavy hitters:

March 31st: Sommer Marsden
April 1: Alison Tyler (No Fool, she...)
April 2: Dakota Rebel
April 3: Erobintica
April 4: Cora Zane
April 5: Heidi Champa
April 6: Moi!
April 7: Marina St. Clare
April 8: Emerald
April 9: Kristina Wright
April 10: Isabel Kerr
April 11: Neve Black

We will be offering discourse, fiction, memoirs and who knows what else -- all blow-job-centric. You can win a titillating prize! And, hey, no road tour worth its weight in ejaculate is without its roadies -- I say we call them our FlufferNutters -- so go ahead and apply! We'll need lots of help carrying our knee pads.

More to come. Watch this space!

Thar She Blows...!

I'm not much of a joiner but now I'm on a team! Details soon to, um, come.

Erection, set. THE EMPIRE STATE, BUILDING; a Story

(IMAGE NOT ACTUAL SIZE)
Idea magician Alison Tyler did it again this week with another powerhouse mind-bending short-short-story contest. This time the subject was masturbation, in 250 words, from the opposite gender's point-of-view. As it happens, I've always wondered what it would be like to have a penis (shut up, Sigmund!) and now I can happily report that it was just fine! I only wish we'd been allotted more words -- I had so many other ideas of what I could do with this handy new piece of equipment!

I came up (oops!) with the following:

THE EMPIRE STATE, BUILDING
© 2009 by EllaRegina
On my back, left eye shut, I align my hard cock with the Empire State Building -- my bedroom's eastern view -- until its antenna is a needle rising from my prick's eye -- a fleshy hypodermic, ready to inject.

The window in the opposite wall overlooks an apartment building, the nearest room close enough to jump into, were I Spiderman. Every night it presents a beautifully framed scene: a pale girl, face down on an unmade bed, naked except for knee-highs and pink stilettoed Mary Janes, ankles bound together with an ever-changing inventory of unassuming objects: a pair of shoelaces today, a scarf or dishtowel tomorrow. Her hands are beneath her, rump bobbing in air like a cork riding swiftly downstream. She hides her face under a pillow. I coordinate my strokes to match her behind's rhythmic levitations, as if posting atop a galloping horse.

My hand glides up and down my cock as her plump moons rise and fall. I grip myself, holding the Empire State Building. I wonder if the tourists on the Observation Deck know they are part of my erotic strategy. They've waited hours on line to unwittingly appear within the crosshair sight of my warm gun.

My balls ache. A feverish trail bubbles forward from the base of my spine. The Empire State Building turns into a geyser, a firework display. On the landmark's 86th floor dozens of Japanese visitors wearing I [HEART] NY buttons open black umbrellas simultaneously. I reach for a tissue.

Copyright 2009 EllaRegina. All rights reserved. Content may not be copied or used in whole or part without prior written permission from the author.

Hot Sheets

My generous friend Donna George Storey is not only a gifted short-story writer, novelist, journalist, gourmet, and columnist; she now sports a hotelier's hat (whatever that looks like). For the past few weeks she has been hosting a literary orgy, Suite 69, at her blog Sex, Food, and Writing, wherein writers' hotel stories are showcased.

I'm the guest there today in Welcome to Hotel Guacamole, with a short-story originally crafted for one of the inimitable Alison Tyler's writing exercises/contests. I thought this 517-word offering, Fucking Green, would be particularly appropriate for Suite 69 as it has to do with sex, food...and hotel sheets.

Thank you so much, Donna, for letting me trample your corridors and peek into the other rooms. There's so much to see! Please let me know when you want the skeleton key back. I hope it's not anytime soon. I'm kind of busy...looking...and trying out all the beds like Goldilocks.

Speaking of green and sheets, a theme seems to be emerging: Alison Tyler just inaugurated a new online hot spot, The Boudoir Blog, where the bed is always the main character. Here's mine.

Enjoy your rolls in my hay!

PS: Don't sit in this postcard's foreground chair. It's reserved for Charlie Brown.

A Black Lace Virgin

Photograph: New York Public Library Digital Gallery

I am truly chuffed, as my British friends would say, to announce that Black Lace, an erotic fiction imprint of Virgin Books (Random House; UK), has bought two (!) of my short stories for their upcoming (6 August 2009) anthology, Sexy Little Numbers (UK version here), the debut of an annual collection presenting the best erotica stories written by women.

From the Amazon.com product description:

"Sexy Little Numbers" will combine humour and attitude with wildly imaginative writing from all over the world.

I am also chuffed because the Black Lace editor, the dashing and discerning Adam Nevill, said some awfully nice things about my work. They brought tears to my eyes, they did.

I shall be in very good company. Other contributors to this sure-to-be-almost-too-hot-to-handle volume include Janine Ashbless, Portia Da Costa, Kristina Lloyd, Madelynne Ellis, Charlotte Stein, Justine Elyot, and Kristina Wright.

Cheers!


(Mysterious Mock-up Cover by Me)

A Garden of Frenzied Delight

Illustration: New York Public Library Digital Gallery

Being in a short story anthology is like being a flower in a botanical garden. In this case, with the delicious and wild Frenzy: 60 Stories of Sudden Sex, edited by the incomparable Alison Tyler, there are 59 other specimens to consider and enjoy, all of them rare and exotic -- just waiting to be smelled, fondled, licked by the sun, feel a little special.

So it has been recently with "Faceless Filly Seeks Rider," my contribution to this beautiful arrangement of literary flora. Its first shout-out arrived February 13th from an Amazon customer reviewer, Amy Stapleford, who called it "hot, clever, and oh-so-smart." As if that wasn't enough of a Vitamin D tickle, on February 28th, in a full-page book review on the Erotica Readers & Writers Association website, reviewer Kathleen Bradean, a fine author herself, chose six stories to highlight and had this to say about mine:

And while I may have a soft spot for established couples, EllaRegina's "Faceless Filly Seeks Rider," is a sex with a stranger fantasy that got me going. In the form of a Craigslist ad, it is cheeky, smart, funny, and deliciously dirty. Here's a story that can quote French pornographic literature and make it seem earthy instead of pretentious.

Thank you Amy and Kathleen, for smelling my flower, so to speak, speaking of earth.

One thousand fragrant rose petals shall rain on my brilliant writer friend Jeremy Edwards for alerting me to both of these instances. (I was too busy with my nose in the other flowers). Jeremy's wonderful "You in Your Apricot Panties" -- which I like to call "a character study of a delicate underthing" -- about 100 pages away from me in this particular collection, was also given a tip of the solar hat in both venues.

My wish here -- and with every anthology I've been in and will be a part of hence -- is for each lovely flower to ultimately be given its moment of attention and recognition under glowing rays of sunlight. This would make the gardener and all the botanical specimens she has carefully and lovingly assembled very smiley and happy, indeed.