Experience Hurdles

in Orgasmic. Edited by Rachel Kramer Bussel

Experience Yes, You Drea

at Best Lesbian Love Stories

Experience The Swing Set

at Swing!

Experience Halves in

The Very Best of Best American Erotica

Released January 2008

Experience NYC in

After Midnight: True Lesbian Erotic Confessions

KISSES WITH WOMEN were an intense experience for me; I'd had that pleasure with several of them. A first kiss at a club in Chicago. City with the U.S. Army. Mandy on scaffolding at a rave. Claudia on the floor of my apartment. I was intoxicated by the way women smelled, how soft they were and the knowledge that they wanted to kiss me, too.

She sat on the park bench, still shuddering, and gathered herself. She could still feel the itch of the cheap sheets and the eyes of man who'd slid the key across the dirty counter. She knew she would go to the seedy hotel again if invited. But now, she had to get home to clean up and start dinner for her family.

PETE IS MY LIVING ART. I've drawn every one of his twenty-six tattoos. We started with the green and grey gargoyle on his arm and have progressed naturally from there...

Fucking Music

AS I STROKE the brand-spanking-new Stiletto amp, the oversized speaker rumbles my ass. I prepare for the flux of sound. Black cords snake from Bruce's guitar into the equipment beneath me ...

HE WATCHED her sleep. This one would do nicely. Stroing in mind and body. Bitter and fed up with the world. She would be able to take on the task and not give a damn what others think. He leaned over her prone body and carefully laid his cold hand over her mouth.

He climbed on top of her and pinned her to the mattress, smiled in the dark at his good fortune, and sank his teeth into the soft flesh of her neck ...

"You're Poison. I can smell it." ...

"WHAT ARE you doing out there?" Pam had to know.

Frank added a raised eyebrow to his typical smirk and went back out to the barn.

"It's a garage," he always corrected her. "And you don't need to be out there right now." Fine, her husband was in the garage for the third night that week. Each night, he came home with metal and machinery in his trunk. Each night Pam watched through the kitchen window as he unloaded and left his car blocking her view. Damn. ...

A SHRILL VOICE wrecks my brain and beats my ass around with pounding bass and drums. It's all anarch and lobotomies. Insanity. Punk is insanity living in music. It's the sound you hear when you bang your head against a block wall. There's usually nothing pretty, sweet, nice or kind about it. Just the way it should be ...

"I WANT to hear you come."

"Not now. Not on the phone. I hate phone sex," I tell her. "Besides, Julie will be home soon, and she'd have my ass."

"Screw Tinkerbell. You could have my ass..."