Tag Archives: Go Deeper Quotes

Patrick Califia’s “Macho Sluts”

Arsenal Pulp Press (2009)

I could go on and on about how important Patrick Califia’s Macho Sluts is to me. At 18 years old, it was the first book I ever bought that described, in dizzying, illustrious detail, queer women having SM sex. Actually, it was the first book I ever bought that described sex of any kind, so let’s say Califia was the first to introduce me to erotic lit. But there’s more:  Macho Sluts was the first book to introduce me to the word “leatherdyke.” It was the first to prove that the fantasies in my head were shared by others, and that, if I just hung in there, I probably wouldn’t feel so lonely in bed.

I just bought a copy of Macho Sluts for my Nook. I read these stories obsessively when I was younger, and just coming out as queer and punk, and then—look at that!—kinky.  I haven’t read the tales in this collection for years, but funny how sentence after sentence will ring true in my head, like I should have known the words that followed because they’re so familiar. Califia’s visuals, the voices, of all these seriously bad girls still exist in my subconscious. When I think about externals that have had influence on the woman I am today, on my sexuality, on my politics, there’s a very short list, but Macho Sluts sits high on it. So, here’s just a snippet—and it was hard to pick just one—from “Calyx of Isis.” Here are the words of Alex, who is the calmest, coolest, most deviant top ever looking to set up a very, very specific and very, very heavy scene for her submissive, Roxanne.

“I want a gang, a pack, a bunch of tough and experienced top women. I’ll leave the exact number up to you, but I don’t want just a threesome in a warm leatherette…I want to give them Roxanne, and if she makes me proud I want her to belong to me, wear my rings. If she still wants me. She might decide it’s too much, or maybe she’ll tumble for one of the other tops. I have to know where she’s at before I fall any more in love with her. I want somebody I can perfect with hard, constant training…So pretty and alive and responsive to me it will make all the other tops, boys and girls, gnaw on their arms. It’s makin’ me crazy, what I want.”

Get Macho Sluts anywhere—Amazon, BN, or your preferred bookseller.

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Eric Albert’s “Inspiration”

Chronicle Books (2008)

Albert’s protagonist is in a hospital room with his dying lover, who asks to hear a dirty story. He tells the tale of a lucky man who has a woman at home who loves anal sex just as much as he does–maybe more, considering how long and hard she preps for his returns home (plug after plug after plug). Plus, he has a coworker who, stupidly, refuses to believe this guy gets it so good, and puts money on it all being a lie. A short story shorter: He loses, this friend. Here’s a quick glimpse at $100 gone. Oh, and how.

“No need to hold your hips–the cock up front keeps you right here. My frenzied humping forces you to swallow the final half inch of his erection. Maybe that’s why he’s closed his eyes and started moaning.

“Or maybe it’s the way your throat’s convulsing on him. Your body’s shuddering, too. It’s been just forty seconds but time passes slowly when you’re jammed between two dicks and the oxygen stops.”

You can find Albert’s “Inspiration” in Susie Bright’s X: The Erotic Treasury, with a ridiculous amount of other extremely hot stories (including, by the way, Shanna German’s “Red Light, Green Light,” which we fawned over a few weeks ago. You can always get it at Amazon, or you can hold out for your favorite shop.

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“Wild” by Dennis Cooper

Grove Press (1991)

In his collection Frisk, Cooper is, per usual, on point. In his writing, he mixes sex and drugs, desire and disconnection, in ways that are hard to find elsewhere, at least not done with Cooper’s level of obsession, of precision, with such beautiful, vivid, sometimes horrific details. His sex writing can be scary, and dark, and wildly arousing. Some could or would describe his scenes as completely fucked up, but this is why I love him. He is fearless. These beautiful boys he captures in his prose, like models or rock stars coming to life, they do and say things that could stop your heart.

Here’s Henry and “the guy,” at “the guy’s” house, from the story “Wild”:

“Henry flopped on the bed. It bounced around and squeaked for five, six seconds. The guy stripped. He had tiny red genitals, spider-webby blond pubic hair. Not that Henry cared about defects like that. He himself was a big waste of time from the neck down at this point, thanks to uncountable drugs ….

“…The guy started painting the cock with his tongue. The room felt cozy. Or the pills Henry took that afternoon left him cozy, and the room was just there, a movie set. He shut his eyes, tried to restart a favorite porn daydream. “Shi-i-i-it.” His history had been reduced to a simplistic blur, like the trails in the air left by people on fire.”

Cooper has, quite possibly, the most amazing blog ever.  Frisk is sort of hard to find on Amazon, a little easier at BN, but hopefully you can find it at your favorite bookshop.

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Steve Almond: Run Away, My Pale Love

The narrator is crazy about fellow student–a Polish woman named Basha.  He adores her accent.  That’s all you need to know…

We made love, or fucked, did that thing where our center parts fit and unfit, a half dozen times, in panicky sessions, ten minutes or so, until she cried tak! tak! then fell still.  She consented to my movements with her body and spoke only once, toward dawn, saying, as my hand brushed up her thigh, “I am having so wet.”  I knew then–at that exact moment–Basha had been sent to rescue me from the dull plight of my life.

From My Life in Heavy Metal by Steve Almond

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Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov

Oh, Lo, oh, Lo—there has never been a young girl so fawned upon, so draped in beautiful, passionate, unsettling language, both courtesy of Nabokov’s Humbert Humbert. Desire and obsession, they are thick like no other, especially here, as Lolita joins H.H. in the garden:

“To my intense disappointment she came with her mother, both in two-piece bathing suits, black, as new as my pipe. My darling, my sweetheart stood for a moment near me—wanted the funnies … There my beauty lay down on her stomach, showing me, showing the thousand eyes wide open in my eyed blood, her slightly raised shoulder blades, and the bloom along the incurvation of her spine, and the swelling of her tense narrow nates clothed in black, and the seaside of her schoolgirl thighs. Silently, the seventh-grader enjoyed her green-red-blue comic. She was the loveliest nymphet green-red-blue Priap himself could think up. As I looked on, through prismatic layers of light, dry-lipped, focusing my lust and rocking slightly under my newspaper, I felt that my perception of her, if properly concentrated upon, might be sufficient to have me attain a beggar’s bliss immediately, but, like some predator that prefers a moving prey to a motionless one, I planned to have this pitiful attainment coincide with one of the various girlish movements she made now and then….”

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Marquis de Sade from “Philosophy in the Bedroom”

Penguin Classics (2006)

Sometimes, but especially on Mondays, it’s best to go old, old school. Here we have three players from the mind of the great and twisted Marquis, in their true, intoxicating forms, mid “lesson”:
Madame de Saint-Ange: Eugenie, do you want him to taste even greater pleasures?
Eugenie: Definitely…I’ll do anything to help.
Madame de Saint-Ange: Fine! Take his dick into your mouth and suck it for a few moments.
Eugenie (doing it): Like this?
Dolmance: Ah, what a delicious mouth! What heat! …It’s as enchanting as the most beautiful ass! You skillful and voluptuous ladies–never withhold this pleasure from your lovers. You will chain them to you forever!
You can pick this up at Amazon, or at your shop of choice, of course.
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Erin Cressida Wilson in The Erotica Project

Cleis (2000)

Perfect lines from perfect flash fiction—it’s sexy and beautiful, everything erotic writing can be. Every time I read these lines, I melt and melt and melt.

Tree Frog

I bite my nails now to be like you, I move my mouth and pronounce my vowels like you … Pick me up and hold me up to the light, turn me until you find the perfect place to sink your teeth.

Get The Erotica Project here, or at your favorite shop anywhere.


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Shanna Germain in Hide and Seek

Cleis Press (2010)

In Shanna Germain’s “Red Light, Green Light,” Luce’s husband Danny gives her a gift she’s wanted since their first visit to Amsterdam: a window where she can display herself in the city’s infamous red light district. In this excerpt, Luce has selected the man that will pay her handsomely for her time, but what gets me most is the way Germain ensures that Danny never leaves Luce’s thoughts:

I ride him backward, his hand pulling me down, hips pumping up. I put my hand to my wet clit, think of Danny standing out there in the cold, watching my closed curtain, waiting while this other man fucks me. It nearly makes me come right there, just thinking of that. But I promised Danny I’d wait, that I’d wait for him. I have to take my hand away from my clit, concentrate on the man beneath me, on the way he moans and rocks under me, on the way his cock feels, longer inside me, as though he’s reaching farther up in me than Danny ever does.

Visit Shanna Germain’s official website. And buy “Hide and Seek” right here.

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Georges Bataille’s “Story of the Eye”

Bataille’s Simone is right: Milk is for the pussy.

Georges Bataille

Suddenly, she got up, and I saw the milk dripping down her thighs to the stockings. She wiped herself evenly with a handkerchief as she stood over my head with one foot on the small bench, and I vigorously rubbed my cock through the trousers while writhing amorously on the floor. We reached orgasm at almost the same time without even touching one another.

More Georges here.

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Kevin Killian’s “Spurt” from Impossible Princess

Kevin, Kevin, oh Kevin. In this story, Killian provides a perfect landscape of nights frequently dreamt about.

City Lights Publishers (2009)

Ever been really drunk, in a room full of mirrors? Liquor, brown and warm, slops down the side of your mouth. You can’t swallow fast enough. Your kisses get sloppy, your vision too. All of a sudden, there’ s a little click in your head, and the first person turns into the second person. That’s you—Kevin. Have another drink. Don’t mind if I do. You stroke the warm cock in your hand, you can’t decide if it’s yours or another’s. Click. The second person slips into the third.

Visit Kevin at www.kevinkillian.com.

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