Giving Thanks

Well it’s another weekend – thank God! And Thanksgiving is just around the corner. This has always been one of my favorite holidays. It’s a chance to take a couple days for family, eat delicious home-cooked food, drink too much wine, and just enjoy the harvest season. Since chances are I will be too replete with heavy food, vacation sex, and alcohol next weekend (in my family the celebration lasts until the leftovers are entirely consumed; or there’s no more champagne, whichever comes first), I will use this short pause to share some of the things I’m thankful for this year.

First of all, I’m grateful for all the material comforts in my life. My husband and I are both employed this year; we’re working hard but we still have time to relax, to take care of our couple. It is such a blessing not to have to worry about money, knowing we are safe, with a great place to live, plenty of everything we need, and enough extra to take some small vacations and go out when we want to. Few people in the world are so lucky. This year I don’t want to take any of these blessings for granted.

Of course I am ever-thankful for my family and friends. Even those who live far away, I know are still a big part of my life and community. True friendship is knowing that they’re there, even if it’s been years since you last saw each other. Family is love in the most unconditional sense. My husband and my parents and brothers are the most important people in the world for me, and every day I take a moment to reflect on how fortunate we are to be together.

This year I am especially grateful for the support of other writers. Since timidly dipping my tiptoes into the self-publishing world, I’ve come up against a lot of negativity. But there are plenty of great people out there ready to offer support, encouragement, and expertise. I feel much more secure as a writer this year, in large part thanks to the feedback I’ve received from other authors. It has spurred me to finish a long-standing project, polish and publish more of my work, and continue cooking up new stories.

My creativity is blooming, and it’s because of all these wonderful things in my life. During this Thanksgiving season, all of it – and all of them – are on my mind.

A special thanks to:

Alliance of Self Published Authors – for inviting me to join their dynamic, supportive, and professional writers’ group. I plan to be an active member for Thanksgivings to come.

SexScribbler – a truly fantastic erotica writer, who has given me great feedback and encouragement in my latest writing forays. Here’s hoping we’ll stay connected into the future!

Blessings to all, and happy early Thanksgiving to everyone celebrating.

The Natural Joys of an Uncircumcised Cock

At the risk of offending several major world religions, not to mention a couple million of my fellow Americans, I believe it is time for me to say: I love an uncut cock. Yes, I’m a fan of foreskin. If you lined up twenty gorgeous naked men in front of me, I would go straight to the uncircumcised guy every time. (Well, maybe not every time; the whims of hormones are unpredictable, but you get the idea!)

It was a source of enduring frustration to me that, during my more sexually experimental years, all the guys I found were circumcised. This wasn’t their fault, of course. It’s a generational thing, and sadly most American men of my generation were circumcised as babies, before they had any say in the matter. Even as a tender college student who didn’t know any better, I secretly longed for dick au naturel, as Nature made it in all her erotic wisdom. (Finally I studied abroad in Europe, and that fixed me up just fine! Thank god the Europeans have gotten over the silly circumcision fad. The good news is I hear it is losing ground in the USA, too. Foreskins for the future!)

Although I could write poetry about the many joys involved in sex with uncircumcised cock(s), that’s not the point of this blog post. I don’t want to make the many millions of circumcised guys feel bad. Plus, as we all know, it’s not all about the kind of tool you’ve got, but rather how you’ve learned to use it. (Size does matter, though. Don’t let anybody tell you otherwise! But it’s width, not length; put your rulers away, gentlemen, and get a tailor’s measuring tape.)

No, what I want to write about today is choice. As a human being, raised where I was, when I was, in the culture I was, I believe individual choice is one of the most essential rights a person can have. That’s kind of the root of the American worldview, for better or worse, which is why it’s so appalling that many American parents take away a pretty huge choice from their sons. By circumcising babies, you remove the possibility of a man being able to choose what kind of cock he wants to have. (And, incidentally, taking that choice away from the women they will eventually sleep with!)

I’m not against body modification; I have several tattoos and am always pondering more. The thing is, I chose to get those tattoos. I decided where I wanted them, what they would be, and who did them. If you want a boob job, great! You can have one! When you’re an adult. Want to pierce your face in every possible spot? Want to tattoo yourself blue all over? Great! You can – when you are an adult. All these things are pure body modification without any medical necessity, and in order to make a decision about whether or not you modify your body you must be a fully-functioning adult person. So why isn’t circumcision the same? Whichever way you cut it (sorry, bad pun), circumcision is medically unnecessary, purely cultural and/or cosmetic, body modification. Why not give that choice to an adult man who can weigh the pros and cons and decide for himself? (People say they prefer to circumcise babies because it’s very painful, and few men would choose to do it. Well, duh, it’s painful! Lots of things in life are painful. If you want it bad enough, you endure the fucking pain, okay? That excuse pisses me off! Case closed.)

What bothers me is that many Americans seem to think a circumcised penis is the “normal” kind. It’s anything but! Regardless of what porn and locker rooms may suggest, the “normal” way to be is the way we were born. Nature usually knows best; that’s why our ridiculous species has survived long enough to reach such pinnacles of intellectual development that we created the Internet, where one can watch cat videos all day and write whatever they want on a blog. I trust that our bodies are made this way for a purpose. We should be cautious of extreme modification – especially of genitals, those all-important tools of pleasure and reproduction – if only for this reason.

As an erotica author, I feel a responsibility to promote – to normalize, if you will – my favorite kind of cock. Although I may not always mention it (and I’m trying to do so more often!), you can always visualize a gloriously uncircumcised penis in all the pages of my writing. That’s what I prefer, and what I hope will soon reemerge as the natural and expected way for a man to be. Until then, read on! And keep dreaming those uncut dreams…

An interview with Fionna Guillaume

Curious to know more about me and my work? Take a look at: An interview with Fionna Guillaume . All my secrets are therein revealed! (That’s not true, actually, but it’s still worth a look!)

I had such fun joining fellow author Jolie Mason for her interview! What’s better than talking about yourself and your work? Everybody loves to preen!

While you’re at it, check out Jolie Mason’s blog here. She is a truly interesting person, and with plenty of great books to check out, too. (Sci-Fi romance, who doesn’t love that?) Head on over!

Claim Your Beauty

curveIn the interest of sexing up my website a little bit (and also, just for fun), I’ve added some little photos here and there. You’ll notice themes of lace and soft lighting, curves of skin and peekaboo poses… and of course the fact that they’re all me. So now it’s clear that I have an exhibitionist streak – no surprises there, I’m sure, given my choice of writing genre! – as well as extremely pale skin, thanks to genetics and the cloudy, rainy, magnificent Pacific Northwest. Naturally I am only sharing photos that don’t include my face, just in case we work together. (I don’t think we do, but you never know! Ditto on the tattoos. I’ve cropped all my tattoos… though if you know where those are, chances are also good we don’t work together, though we may be enjoying a relaxing beach vacation together!)brashot

Now, a little history: these photos come from a wonderful afternoon my husband and I spent in Portland with a professional boudoir photographer. For us it was fun, but also a celebration of our bodies – as they really are at this particular moment in our lives. I haven’t been shy about my body for years; most of the time I am perfectly happy to dance around naked (weather permitting). Made for some fun times in college, and lots of skinny dipping. However, as confident as I feel about my body, and as comfortable as I am with it, I realize that many people – especially women – are not.

frontSociety has a way of telling women, subliminally or overtly, that they are insufficiently beautiful. Surely everyone has had the experience of staring in the mirror and feeling dissatisfied with their looks. This happened to me all the time, especially when I was younger. My breasts were too small, then too big, then not perky enough. My waist didn’t have enough dip; my hips were too narrow; I wished my butt was bigger, or my legs curvier. I used to sigh and wish my lips were fuller, or my eyes wider, or my nose shorter, or whatever. It doesn’t really matter, because at the heart of it is the feeling of inadequacy, of not being pretty according to the standards we set for ourselves – or, I should say, that society sets for us.

Gradually I grew out of this. In all fairness, I am lucky to have a body type that is generally admired in this country, in this decade, in this part of the world (nobody would have looked twice at me in the Italian Renaissance, though!). But that’s not why I got over it. It comes from looking at yourself clearly, seeing your body as a unique work of art, and claiming it. Claim your beauty. Nobody else can do this for you; you have to decide you are beautiful. And once you do, you will be.hello hands

Boudoir photography is just one way to claim your beauty, and have it validated through art. Erotica is another way: I am attentive to this, and write characters – male and female – of various body types, celebrating the deep capacity for beauty, sensuality, pleasure, and love that lies in everyone. True beauty has no body type. It has no skin color. It has no weight, no shoe size, no 34-25-36 measurements, no haircut. It is ageless. Beauty is always there, just waiting to be claimed. You are beautiful already.

So take it, claim it – it’s yours.

I like it quick and dirty

In bed and in the kitchen! But especially in the kitchen. Like so many busy people, I love delicious food but (despite my best intentions and local-vore tendencies), I just can’t bring myself to enjoy hours of preparation. Not to mention dishes. However, there is one dish that works for me every time. It’s fast, easy, fun, and totally delicious: pasta puttanesca.

What attracted me first to this dish is the name. “Puttanesca” is a beautiful Italian word that means, quite simply, whore. So puttanesca pasta is pretty much noodles in prostitute sauce! (There are a variety of tales attempting to explain this nomenclature. Among them two stand out. The first says puttanesca sauce came about because it is so fast to prepare, ladies of the night could whip it up and eat quickly between customers. The second, in contrast, says they cooked it in order to lure men in with the mouth-watering aroma of simmering sauce. Either way it is my favorite way to prepare pasta!)

Many better writers than I have illuminated the link between food and sex. My favorite is Isabel Allende’s tome of aphrodisiacs, Aphrodite: A Memoir of the Senses. (If you haven’t read this yet, buy it! She is as funny as she is wise, revealing history and personal memories of erotic experiences throughout the ages. Plus, the recipes are fantastic.) For me, however, it all comes together in a simple dish of puttanesca.

If you want an exact recipe, Google it; I guarantee you will find plenty of tasty variations. Basically it calls for anchovies (I prefer the little fillets, which I melt in olive oil first), olives (kalamata are my preference), capers (yum!), onion and garlic, and either whole canned or fresh tomatoes (I use whole canned, because they cook faster and have that nice saucy texture). Also, basil and – this is key! – red pepper flakes. Make the sauce, add al dente penne or linguine, finish cooking the pasta in the sauce, and dinner is served. Don’t forget some fresh grated Parmesan on top.

When I make puttanesca sauce I feel spicy, salty and tart, just like the dish. Food and sex and love all intertwine on the plate. It is a rare joy to come home with energy enough to make a real dish from scratch, instead of just heating up leftovers or popping a frozen pizza into the oven. (That happens, too, but my husband and I are trying to save those delicacies for the really bad days!) It’s wonderful to smell that delicious perfume of homemade sauce on the stove, knowing it will be ready in just a few minutes, to be enjoyed with a big glass of red wine and laughter.

Quick, dirty, and delicious. It is possible – it’s puttanesca!