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Between the Cheeks - Cleis Press
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INTRODUCTION: ANAL EXPLORATION
In popular culture, anal sex is often thought of as strictly a female receptive act—receptive to a penis, that is. Truth is, there’s a wide range of anal pleasure to be had for people of all genders. In Between the Cheeks, that range is explored, savored, enjoyed. Each element of preparation, from fantasy and anticipation to tension, humiliation, curiosity and sheer delight, is drawn out, while all kinds of touch get their due.
Our desire for anal sex is often paired with mixed emotions—want plus fear, eagerness plus uncertainty. Good erotica plays up—and with—those fears, exaggerating them, exposing them, incorporating them into the story, since they are a part of life. In Neil Gavriel’s As Long As You Don’t Wake Me,
the male protagonist submits to his mistress, Jen, and even though he is eager to please her, aroused by the scenario, there is a part of him that is still a bit unsure:
Just relax, you know you want it up there,
she said. And I did, in a way that was a little scary and raw to me. Of course, the reality was that I could do nothing to stop it, tied up and exposed as I was. That scared the hell out of me and excited me in equal measure.
After two women give him a threesome he wasn’t quite expecting in Emerald’s Apple Blossoms,
Brad is awed by what he’s learned from these lovers—about their sexuality, and his own. He stood in front of us, an unquestionable humility reflected in his eyes, his chest moving perceptibly as he finished catching his breath.
As you read on, you’ll find strap-on play (pegging), rimming (analingus), anal intercourse and more, though certainly there are plenty of other anal delights a person can enjoy. Each story details not only the physical responses of the characters, but the mental ones, highlighting the mixed emotions that can make anal play, from either end (pun intended), so exciting. Here’s Donna George Storey in Pink Satin Purse,
as Natalie discovers the intoxicating power she holds over her Keenan as he awaits her touch—and tongue:
Her hands wandered over his backside freely, stroking his thick, strong thighs, raking slippery fingers over his tensed buttocks, hard as iron. But when her finger somehow found its way into his valley, she faltered, caught off guard by the tender, silky flesh. Even more surprising was her husband’s deep sigh of response. Her chest tightened. As if she’d crawled into his skin, she felt the electric shudder of being touched in this forbidden place, a witch’s brew of shame and pleasure.
I hope these stories excite, arouse and encourage you to explore anal eroticism—talking and fantasizing about it, as well as engaging in it, with whatever body parts and sex toys (and plenty of lube!) you desire.
Rachel Kramer Bussel
PINK SATIN PURSE
Donna George Storey
Scene One: The Bedroom, Midafternoon
I’m finally going to do it. Tonight.
Natalie actually said the words out loud to the empty room. Although her voice was brave, her tongue suddenly felt shamefully heavy in her mouth, even tingling, provocatively, at the tip.
Nervous as she was, she couldn’t pass up this perfect opportunity to translate her guilty fantasy into action. She and Keenan had a rare evening alone—their daughter off to the movies with friends, their son invited to a sleepover birthday party. Her husband would already be expecting special date-night sex, something a bit edgy with plenty of loud moaning. However, he probably wouldn’t be expecting what she would propose they try tonight. Or rather what she would command him to do.
For that is how she always imagined the scene, beginning with her own disembodied voice ordering him gently, but firmly: Get on your hands and knees. Good boy. Now spread your legs wider for me…
Natalie swallowed hard and walked over to her dresser. Hooking her fingers through the pulls of the second-to-the-top drawer, she eased it open. She still felt a pang of surprise at the neatly arranged display of adult
playthings before her. A sex stash was supposed to be a riotous jumble of satin and silicone, but somehow she craved order here more than in other parts of her life. Her collection of thigh-highs—in classic black, bridal cream and Keenan’s favorite whore’s red—were tucked into the compartments of a specially designed stocking box. Beside them lay a few silky thongs, the sight of which sparked a delicious tingle between her legs. Keenan liked to pull the skimpy panties far up over her hips to put a sweet, stinging pressure on her clit. Then he sucked and teased her breasts until she begged for his cock inside her to ease her torment.
If all went as planned, he’d be the one begging tonight.
Next to the lingerie were the educational DVDs Natalie had bought herself: a porn star’s guide to oral sex techniques; a set of interviews with committed couples who then made love in front of the camera to lilting New Age music; a sexercise program led by an exotic dancer that culminated in a seductive lap dance. She and Keenan had watched the first two together. He’d been attentive to the expert’s cunnilingus tips but amused that all the couples seemed fixated on the outfits they were wearing when they first met. I was too busy imagining you naked,
he said with a wink.
The lap-dance video Natalie had kept to herself. She’d felt too self-conscious to pout and gyrate in front of Keenan. Besides, seductive dancing for her husband felt like something a smooth-voiced doctor would advise to spice up a staid marriage. Her depraved mind had come up with its own prescription, this haunting desire that made her feel hungry and dirty and dizzy all at once.
She knew she could not rest until she tried it.
Natalie let her gaze wander on to the part of the drawer where she kept the gifts from her husband. One Christmas he’d given her a flesh-colored butt plug, modestly sized for beginners. When she was especially bad,
Keenan would bend her over his knee and slide the toy into her exquisitely sensitive back hole. Then he’d spank the plug in deeper, patiently strumming her clit with his other hand until she came in wracking spasms.
He used the delicate feather duster he’d bought at their local couples-friendly sex store for an especially devilish purpose. He’d warm her up by sweeping the feathers over her bare chest and thighs, then force
her to rub her own clit with the tip of the handle, while he taunted her for being such a horny slut she had to masturbate with a stick.