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This month, The Fast and Easy Book Club’s Mistress Alison Tyler features erotica author Sommer Marsden in the spotlight.

Thank goodness for America. Why? Because 3,000 miles separate Sommer Marsden and me and I truly believe the world is not ready for the two of us to get together on the same coast. Sommer Marsden is the author of 16 million short stories, novellas, and novels. Oh, wait. I think I got that number wrong. 16 million and 12.

Ms. Marsden is one of the most prolific writers I’ve ever met. The quality of her writing is phenomenal. You read a story, and you believe the characters exist, like Ted and Treece from Sneaking in the Back Door from explicit e-book collection Bad Ass:

I didn’t want to, but I pulled away from Ted. Hot tears of embarrassment and yes, frustration, trailed down my face. I bit my lip because I was afraid I’d start sobbing harder and then ultimately have the adult version of a temper tantrum. He collapsed beside me, brushed my hair out of my face. “We don’t have to do this, Treece.”

“I don’t want to die an anal sex virgin.” My body was cooling, little tics and pops of pleasure from our sex. It was I who’d insisted on getting him hard again and trying for the anal.

“You’re twenty-four, baby. You plan on dying soon?”

I squinted my eyes tight, mortified at my failure. And that was how I saw it. “No, but still.”

Or Misty and Meredith from Waiting for the Harvest from Eat Me: Succulent Stories of Edible Erotica:

Misty pressed against me, peering at the vegetable in my hand.

“It is rather…male, isn’t it?”

“Looks like a cock,” Misty said.

I clapped my hands shut over the carrot and said, “Shh!”

“Is it a secret cock?”

I bit my lip to keep from laughing. “It reminds me of that cartoon you showed me that one time.”

“The farmer’s wife fucking herself with a carrot?”

“Yeah, that one.” I opened my hands again and stared at the bulbous, phallic carrot.

Misty grabbed my hand and said into my ear. “Come on. Let’s take your boyfriend home and put him to good use.”

“What? What does that mean?” I squealed, but in my belly a warm stripe of anticipation flared hot. My skin pebbled all over and my scalp tingled with excitement.

“Come on…”

Ms. Marsden’s characters have fun. They live life. They get laid. I always look forward to delving into their private worlds – discovering their history, finding out what makes them purr.

Coupling, one of our selections of the month, was edited by Ms. Marsden, who got the idea for the collection when so many people started commenting about her stories that dealt with committed couples and fabulous sex. She felt the point needed to be made, or at least celebrated, that commitment isn’t the death knell, but the party gong. Good sex, honest sex, fun sex often starts with coupledom. It definitely does in Coupling!

Sommer says,

Sommer Marsden's author notes from woking on her zombie novel "We Kill Dead Things"

“Currently, I’m working on three million projects. Heh. Okay, so not three mill, but a bunch. Right now I’m working on the final editing stages of a paranormal novel (the were/human/vamp triangle I said I’d never do) and am actively writing the sequel (also said I’d never do). Also my zombie book WE KILL DEAD THINGS just came out yesterday from Resplendence Publishing, and I’m putting the final touches on the sequel to that.

And um…oh, I’m proofing my mainstream crime fiction novel. Plus, another small December Ink collection is in the final stages. It includes some sinfully good writers and I’m incredibly psyched about it. And what? Oh yeah! My free live novel Wanderlust.

On my blog, I’m writing us from the east coast to the west and there’s tons of fucking, emotion and angst along the way. So, that in a nutshell is what I’m working on. Pass the coffee. Pass the wine. What day is it?”

What day is it? It’s the day to go buy We Kill Dead Things, clearly. And to wait impatiently for the sequel! For more about Sommer, check out her blog and follow her on Twitter.

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FROM THE EDITOR: Erotica author Alison Tyler and I are launching the Fast and Easy Book Club! Alison will post 2-3 new book club picks every two weeks. One Club selection is chosen for discussion each month. To win a copy of May’s selection Beauty’s Punishment, be one of the first five people to comment on this post and ask for the book. Now, please welcome Alison Tyler to TinyNibbles! –Violet

The last book club I joined was actually a drinking club. I just didn’t know it. The hollow-legged women in the club put back the Kettle One Martinis as they eviscerated each other’s selections. I can’t recall a single meeting in which anyone agreed. At some point, Sam pointed out to me—I think I was kissing the cool tiled floor in our bathroom at the time—that I didn’t have to try to keep up with the ladies alcohol-wise or snark wise. I was allowed to like the books I liked no matter what any drunk said.

But now I can do more than like books—Violet Blue has given me the authority to help select the titles for her “Fast and Easy Book Club.” And we’re starting off with a bang. Actually, we’re starting off with three bangs: Beauty’s Punishment by Anne Rice writing as A. N. Roquelaure, Surrender edited by Rachel Kramer Bussel, and Coupling edited by Sommer Marsden.

*****

I have something to confess about our main selection. Beauty’s Punishment is one of my all-time favorite erotic titles. My own personal copy is two decades old. The pages are beyond dog-eared. In fact, I can easily open to the selections I like best. The book practically opens itself like any submissive book should. (I know all the wonders of Kindles and handheld reading devices, but I do love that a book will part its leaves for me.)

Beauty’s Punishment is the second in the Sleeping Beauty trilogy—in between The Claiming of Sleeping Beauty and Beauty’s Release. In this story, Beauty has been sent down from the palace to the village, where she is forced to work at the local tavern. You could really insert any plot notes here, because in my opinion all that’s important is that Beauty and her friends are constantly and creatively punished. Anne Rice entertained herself by switching voices in the book—sometimes you are watching Beauty, sometimes you are in Tristan’s head—but none of that truly matters. You can open to nearly any page in the book and be instantly aroused. At least, if you are me.

He debated with himself: Should he stop this illicit intimacy? It would be simple enough to pull Beauty out of the group and spread her legs as he bent her over the railing of the cart, spanking with his belt her plump disobedient little sex for its impudence. Maybe Tristan and Beauty, both, should be set down on the road and whipped behind the cart to teach them a good lesson.
[SATISFY your CURIOSITY and CONTINUE READING…]

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Image of the luscious French Mina Model by NakedBy.

I’m back from a long work weekend, too many technical problems. I missed you a lot. Not blogging about sex just feels *wrong*. I have big plans for this website this month. Looks like I need a good, trustworthy WordPress template hacker to help me with a couple bugs. All the porn you can eat…

Isn’t she a pretty sight for monday?

Also, happy September: it’s my birthday month. And for my birthday, I’ve worked out a deal with Babeland to give *you* — my dear, lovely readers and overly articulate commenters and invisible crushes — presents. Once a week this month I’ll make up a contest and then pick winners and they’ll discreetly ship you superlative sex toys. My birthday — my rules! Good stuff, too. Stay tuned for more details :D

Oh, and it’s going to be another one of *those* months, I think — I read my horoscope, and am barricading the Blogger Bungalow here in SF with lube, laptop and batteries. To continue this senseless late night ramble, I’d just like to add that in cleaning my room this weekend I found a cockring in the most impossible strangest under-the-dressing bench corner of my room that one could possibly imagine finding a cockring. I glanced around for a hidden camera. I felt like an uber-pervy CSI fembot measuring out bullet trajectory, angle, force, launch scenario and airborne arc analysis, and trying to remember the last time one of those things might have gone flying… Will I find a chalk outline of *something else* under my bed!? Yikes.

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Sent from reader SW, “Would have thought, on craigslist, in New Orleans, in the Casual Encounters section, in the Women Seeking Men section, there would be something of substance right now; instead, nothing but spam.”

http://neworleans.craigslist.org/w4m/
http://neworleans.craigslist.org/cas/

Um, ya: All these posts here are FAKE! (NOLA) “Show some respect for the city at least…”

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Burning Man image by loupiote (Old Skool) from “the temple of forgiveness”. More of their photos are here and here.

This week’s SF Chron column is the sweetly cranky Go Playa With Yourself: Violet Blue explains why sex in the city is so much better during Burning Man — and yes, I’m already getting email telling me how closed-minded I am. It’s cranky and I had some fun, so? Anyway, hope you enjoy it with the appropriate amount of snark, humor, and of course, open-mindedness:

Last year I did my very best as a sex educator to make sure fewer people than usual would bring That Burning Sensation back home from that yearly rave destination in the Nevada desert, Burning Man. Sure, I also made fun of people who pay $300 to visit a festival where they can wear nothing but Crocs with socks while ogling body-painted sex clowns and really finally getting to be themselves, man.

Maybe that second part is why I didn’t get more feedback from attendees of the event. “You are the savior of my sunburned genitals,” no one said; “Baker Beach has a lot to learn about driving 16 hours to be nonconformist in the quest to find myself and get a sunburned peen.” I had imagined people telling me “I never imagined the delicious friction of sand and Astroglide; back home in San Francisco I always have to ride Critical Mass without underpants to get the same sensation. Nevermore!”

Instead, I was forced to seek solace in my own kind. I sat in my imaginary throne-booth at the totally empty uber-hip Mission District Ritual Roasters*, surrounded by a cadre of young, pale, easily sunburned Goth boys and girls complimenting me on my flawless complexion. (“Stay out of the desert, my dark darlings,” I’d answer with a lace-cuffed flourish of a cupcake-heavy hand.) My homo homeboys in the Castro admired my taste in gloriously Steampunk-free fashion, while we shared knowing winks about those who pay hundreds of dollars to get blown by alkali dust all weekend, as opposed to simply paying for drinks to get blown all weekend (though I have to travel to The Lex to receive service, but still).

Sex in San Francisco rocks during Burning Man weekend. Not because the hippies and steampunk hipsters are gone – OK, yes, that helps the atmosphere – but for at least five reasons:

One: Male, female or trans – if you live in The City, finding a parking spot in the Mission, SOMA, South Beach, NOPA, the Castro and yes, even the Marina is enough of a shocking turn-on that most of us will have at least 10 instant hard-ons a day regardless of what’s between our legs, not to mention making thighs quake city-wide with the ease of getting a taxi all weekend long. And just the thought of all those fixies being off the streets makes us motorcycle riders quiver with anticipation. Burners gone = clearer streets = hornier populace.

Two: It’s not just hippies and vaudeville hipster performers that are temporarily pulled from the dating and mating pool over the long weekend. Ravers and bubblicious Disneyland-of-BoingBoing-seeking wealthy tech industry wonks with pimped-out Air Streams also comprise the 50,000+ revelers who spend a s-ton of money to create the fourth largest city in Nevada for a week. And pollute it more than NASCAR, primarily to re-create Castro Halloween two months before we start boarding up our windows here. (…read more.)

* Yes, people are emailing me about SF Gate’s broken links in my piece — *all* links past Ritual Roasters the third paragraph are broken. I’ve notified the Gate, I hope they get fixed…

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