Lisa Fox's Blog, page 141
June 5, 2013
The Tides of Lust by Samuel R. Delany
Here is an excerpt from the modern classic, The Tides of Lust by Samuel R. Delany
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The Tides of Lust by Samuel R. Delany
The Tides of Lust is a powerful, erotic and violent encounter with the voices and experiences of characters who linger in a small American seaport. Here is an insatiable African-American ship’s captain, a dangerously young slave mistress, an aimless drifter and a supreme artist of the perverse. Written by acclaimed and award-winning author Samuel R. Delany, The Tides of Lust, first published in 1973, is a wild ride along the oceans of unleashed sexuality at its most exuberant. A true modern classic.
*****
Excerpt:
The color of bell metal: Longer than a big man’s foot; thick as a small girl’s wrist. Veins made low relief like vines beneath the wrinkled hood. His fingers climbed the shaft, dropped to hair tight as wire, moved under the canvas flaps to gouge the sac, black as an over-ripe avocado: spilled his palm (it is a big hand); climbed the shaft again.
There is little light.
What’s here bars the shutters in gold. Water lisps and whispers outside. The cabin sways, rises. There is a wind out to sea, that means. That means here at port it is clear evening. The dog on the floor claws the planks.
The captain’s toes spread the footboard. His chin went back and his belly made black ridges. The long head rolled on the pillow, brass ring at his ear a-flash.
The hood slipped from the punctured helmet. The knuckles, like knots in weathered cable, flexed on him. The rhythm started with the boat’s sway. Increase: his hand and the boat syncopate. The doubled pace pulled his buttocks from the blanket. The rirn of his fist beat the tenderer rim ( one color with his palm). His breath got loud. It halted, and halted, and halted. Stop action film: a white orchid from bud to bloom.
Breath regular.
Mucus drips his knuckles. Still stiff, the shaft glistens.
Pearls on black wire.
“Kirsten?”
He swung his feet over the edge, his shoulders hunched (dull as cannon shot); his dirty shirt was sleeveless. Buttons: copper.
“Kirsten!”
His voice: maroons, purples, a nap between velvet and suede.
“Come down here!”
When the door cracked, he laughed.
Her hair was yellow, paler than the light. Her smock, torn at her neck, hung between her breasts. One dull aureole rose on the blue horizon. Her face moved with its laughter before she saw, “Captain, you . . . ?” saw, and smothered it, to have it break again. Blue eyes widened in the half dark. “What do you want?”
She stepped on to the rug. A copper anklet sloped beneath the knob of her ankle, crossed low on her calloused heel. (Uneven hem brushes smudged knees. ) A print sash bound her belly.
“Where is your brother?”
“In the wheelhouse, asleep.”
“Where were you?”
“On deck. I was sitting in the sun.”
“With the men on the docks all coming by to stare? How many with their hands in their pockets?”
“Oh . . . !”
“None of them with what I got.” He leaned back.
His fingers tracked his stomach. “Come here. Tell me what’s for supper.”
“Your thoughts have gone as high as your gut, now?”
“How do you and the boy get chores done if you sleep and sun all the time?”
“But what is there to do in port?” She stepped across the rug, laughing.
He grabbed her wrist. She stumbled and he caught: “How many times!”
She pushed his chest. Her wrist turned under slippery fingers.
“Five times? Six? I’ll say seven—“
“But see, you’ve already—”
“Once already. Six more now.” He kneaded her inner thigh.
“Captain . . . !” She tried to pull away.
His hand went beneath the hem.
She shrieked and bit the sound off. What spilled after was a giggle.
“How many years have I had you two, now?” His forearm shifted like bunched blacksnakes. She tried to push his hand from under her skirt. Stopped trying.
She opened her lips and caressed his arm.
“How many years? Seven. Now, once for each year you’ve worked on my boat.” He looked down at himself.
She touched where he looked: she took it, slipping the loose skin from the head. When she fingered beneath the twice full bag, he arched his back.
“Pig. Sit on it. Little white pig . . .” Three calloused fingers were knuckle deep in her. She bent; her hair swept his face. He caught it in his yellow teeth, twisted his head. Kirsten grabbed at her hair, and made an ugly sound. His teeth opened on laughter; it and her hair spilled black lips mottled with cerise.
*****
SAMUEL R DELANY, born 1942, grew up in New York City’s Harlem. His novels Babel-17 and The Einstein Intersection both won Nebula Awards from the Science Fiction Writers of America, as have his short fictions, Eye, and Gomorrah and Time Considered as a Helix of Semi-Precious Stones (which also took a Hugo Award during the World Science Fiction Convention at Heidelberg). His books include The Jewels of Aptor, The Fall of the Towers, Nova, Driftglass (short stories), Tales of Neveryon, Triton and Dhalgren, the million-selling odyssey of modern youth. With his wife, National Book Award-winning poetess Marilyn Hacker, he co-edited the speculative fiction quarterly Quark. He also wrote, directed and edited the half-hour film The Orchid. His essays in literary criticism are collected in The Jewel-Hinged Jaw (1977). In 1975 he was visiting Butler Chair Professor of English at the State University of New York at Buffalo. For the last half dozen years Delany and Hacker have lived between New York, San Fransisco and London. They have one daughter.
Filed under: Guest Blogger Tagged: Erotic, Erotic Romance, Samuel R. Delany, The Tides of Lust
June 4, 2013
Hero Inspiration of the Day
June 3, 2013
June 2, 2013
Sex God Sunday
Here is a little snippet from Sculpting a Demon.
Lila was having the most amazing dream. It had to be a dream. How else could there possibly be strong, muscled arms around her waist? She knew even in her sleep-fogged mind that she had gone to bed alone. Hell, she always went to bed alone. This was just one of those dreams that was so vivid it felt as if it were actually happening.
She stirred and the arms momentarily tightened around her before relaxing once again. Imagines floated behind her closed eyes, visions of every man she had ever lusted after, movie stars she had secretly fantasized about, crushes she had admired from afar. The man in bed with her was all of them and at the same time none of them.
Filed under: Sex God Sunday Tagged: Fallen Angel, Nice Ass, Paranormal Romance, Sculpting a Demon, Sex God Sunday, Sexy Men
June 1, 2013
Saturday Video – Don’t Touch Pac-Man
This tickles my inner geek.
Filed under: Saturday Video Tagged: Geek, Pac Man, RicePirate, Saturday Video
May 31, 2013
May 30, 2013
Left Turn at Albuquerque
One day I am going to take that left turn and all be right in the world.
Filed under: Ramblings Tagged: Albuquerque, Inspiration, Rainbow, Sexy Men
May 29, 2013
Smut by the Sea Volume 2 edited by Victoria Blisse and Lucy Felthouse
Here is an excerpt from Smut by the Sea Volume 2 featuring super hot smut from some of the best authors around!
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Smut by the Sea Volume 2, edited by Victoria Blisse and Lucy Felthouse
Light hearted, sexy fun by the sea is the theme of this erotic anthology, edited by Victoria Blisse and Lucy Felthouse.
From the sun soaked beaches of Brazil to the altogether cooler coastal towns of England, Smut by the Sea Volume 2 has it all. Whatever your interpretation of naughty seaside fun, there’s something nestling between the covers for you. Amusement arcades, beach houses, mermaids, honeymooners, shipwrecks, sex toys and more abound in this exciting collection of stories from erotica’s finest authors.
Contains stories from Victoria Blisse, Tilly Hunter, Rachel Randall, Giselle Renarde, Tamsin Flowers, Lucy Felthouse, Kate Britton, Jillian Boyd, Bel Anderson, Cass Peterson, Delyth Angharad, T C Mill, Erzabet Bishop, Tenille Brown and Annabeth Leong.
Coming Soon to All Other Good eBook Retailers.
*****
Excerpt:
Brigit loved the seaside. She always had, probably because visiting it was a rarity. Living in the centre of England meant that even the nearest seaside town was over an hour and a half away—and the nice resorts even further.
Which was why her boyfriend, Allen, proposed a long weekend in Brighton. He knew how fond she was of the seaside. Unsurprisingly, she agreed delightedly.
“It’s a long way,” she said. “But it doesn’t matter. We’d never go anywhere if we lamented the length of the journey.”
As it happened, the travelling wasn’t too bad. Miraculously the M1 was clear all the way down to the M25—and even that notorious motorway wasn’t experiencing its usual havoc. A straight shot south on the M23, then the A23 took them towards Brighton, and they navigated the one-way systems and lack of road signs and—eventually—found their hotel.
“Wow,” Brigit said, stretching luxuriously after getting out of the car, “that didn’t take as long as I thought. Shall we check in, dump our bags and go and explore?”
“Sounds like a plan to me,” Allen replied with a grin.
They slammed their respective car doors, grabbed the bags from the boot and headed into the hotel. Fifteen minutes later, after using the toilet and freshening up, they were back outside.
“Nice choice of hotel, babe. I like it.” Brigit said.
“I’m glad. I researched it well,” Allen replied.
“The bed looks nice and comfy.”
“Well, I’m sure we’ll be able to give it a decent road test later.” He winked at her, and got a slap on the arm for his trouble.
“You’ve got a one-track mind, you have.”
“Well, what do you expect when I’ve got a girlfriend that looks like you?”
She giggled. “Charmer.”
“That’s me. Okay, now I’m back in good books,” Allen said, “what do you want to do? Now, I mean. Not at bedtime.” He waggled his eyebrows.
Brigit stuck her tongue out at him before replying. “I dunno. Just look around I guess. Get our bearings. See what there is to do around here.”
They walked hand-in-hand towards the seafront, then along it in the direction of the pier. They passed the burnt out shell of the West Pier, and Brigit wondered aloud whether it would ever be rebuilt or demolished. Or would the blackened skeleton be left there forevermore, a reminder of what once was.
Soon, they drew close to Brighton Pier. Brigit turned to Allen with a grin.
“What?” he said, then followed her almost manic gaze down the length of the pier, towards a building with fake turret-type things and some very real flags. He sighed. He couldn’t be sure from here, but he thought it was bound to be the amusement arcade. “Oh, you want to go in there, do you? I wonder why?” His voice was laden with sarcasm in his last sentence.
“You know damn well why. Come on!” Brigit tugged him along the last few metres of the pavement and onto the wooden slats of the pier. “Ooh, we can have fish and chips when we come out, if you want.”
*****
Editor Sites:
http://www.victoriablisse.co.uk
http://www.lucyfelthouse.co.uk
Filed under: Guest Blogger Tagged: Anthology, Erotic Romance, Erotica, Lucy Felthouse, Smut by the Sea Volume 2, Victoria Blisse
May 28, 2013
Hero Inspiration of the Day
Anton Antipov
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Filed under: Hot Men Tagged: Cowboy, Hero Inspiration of the Day, Nearly Naked, Sexy Men
May 27, 2013
Celebrate Memorial Day Right
Send a card to a Wounded Warrior this holiday and thank them for the brave and selfless service! It’s totally free and the absolute best way to celebrate Memorial Day.
Wounded Warrior Thank You Card
Filed under: Holiday Tagged: Card, Memorial Day, Military, Thank You, Wounded Warrior Project
