It is my great pleasure to announce my inclusion in a new anthology, aptly titled, Dirty Old Women — an intriguing collection of erotica by women of experience,edited by Lynx Canon
Dirty Old Women know what they want and are not afraid to say so.
I invite you to come join me for an evening featuring free erotic readings and performance by twelve writers, at the book launch and pre-Valentines day party, on Wednesday, February 8, from 7:30 – 9:30, at the Makeout Room, 3225 22nd Street and Mission in San Francisco.
I hope to see you there!
Story Snippet from Full Body Massage:
Are there any tender or painful, body parts I should be aware of?” Don inquired before beginning the massage.
I lay naked, face down on her padded massage table covered by a light blanket. I sighed. “That’s pretty much any body part you can name after six weeks in this cast.”
“Why you poor woman,” she said, in a low, husky voice, “You are in need of attention, aren’t you? Let’s see if I can make you feel better.”
Don poured a small circle of heated massage oil into her hands and rubbed her palms together, releasing a soothing, spicy smell into the air. She began with basic Swedish massage, combined with acupressure; first working on my tension filled upper arms and shoulders, then moving down my spine to my achy lower back, and to my hips.
I felt the first small twinges of arousal between my legs when Don’s hands, slick with oil, slid over the smooth round cheeks of my ass, stroking, kneading and spreading them apart. The sensations became so exciting I squirmed with pleasure, surprising myself, because I wasn’t into women at all. But Don was tall, broad-shouldered, and somehow manly, particularly in the dim light of the room—and into women or not, this massage was turning me on.
Don continued to massage my hips—and I imagined, what if those talented hands were to slide between my legs, parting the swollen outer lips of my opening, and delve into the moist tingling flesh within. I waited, barely breathing, barely breathing, but then she moved on to the backs of my thighs and knees to my lower legs, and spent some time doing acupressure on my feet.
Calm down, Mia, I told myself, what are you expecting anyway—a full body massage?
***
“Mia, you can turn over now,” she said softly. Struggling with the cast I rolled myself over and with the blanket covering me, I lay back comfortably with a small pillow beneath my neck. Using her fingertips, Don massaged my head, face, and throat, even my ears, and the muscles in my arms and hands.
“You’re really tense. You need to remember to breath,” she said, firmly, continuing on to stroke my neck, and shoulders, and upper chest.
I was breathing alright, half gasping in fact, with my nipples jutting out at attention, breasts aching with excitement, and the muscles of my pussy clenching and squeezing down hard. Never mind becoming less sexual during menopause—by the time Don reached my lower belly, I was ready, more than ready for anything she wanted to do. But she folded the blanket back over me and her hands moved onto my thighs instead, and continued downward to my knees, lower legs, and feet—and then slowly, deliberately, back up again.
She paused, when her hands reached the tops of my thighs, with her fingertips almost but not quite brushing my pubic curls hidden beneath the blanket. A hot rush of excitement traveled like an electric current straight to my clit. I gasped with pleasure and opened my eyes.
Don gazed down at me longingly. “Beautiful Mia,” she murmured, and waited, her dark eyes questioning. Speechless with excitement, I smiled up at her and nodded my agreement. Full body massage, oh my god, yes! Please don’t stop now! I thought, and a ripple of pleasure went through my entire body when she set the blanket aside and reached for me.
Earlier this month the most exciting thing happened to me. Rose Caraway, The Sexy Librarian, and her husband and business partner, Big Daddy Dayv Caraway came to my home in Half Moon Bay, where I’ve lived with my husband and Sir for nearly thirty years — traveling all the way from their home in Sacramento, where Dayv set up a sound studio in our living room, while Rose interviewed me for The Kiss Me Quick’s Sexy Librarian’ Erotica Podcast!
I can hardly express how honored I feel that my erotic journey begun in the mid-70s — and the sex-positive way I’ve chosen to live my life from then on — is deemed inspirational to others, and a story worthy of being told.
I met Rose and Dayv twelve days after suffering a stroke, when I attended the reading of Best Women’s Erotica , Volume 1. The reading, which took place appropriately enough, at the Good Vibrations sex toy store, on Polk Street in San Francisco , was an amazing experience. I was frankly thrilled to realize I was sharing pages in a book with an incredibly talented, diverse group of female writers, in an outstanding anthology that I have no doubt will make its mark in erotica history.
But the highlight of my experience — aside from sharing a stage with BWE editor, Rachel Kramer Bussel.Jade A. Waters, and my Erotic Reading Circle buddy , Amy Butcher — was meeting fellow writer, Rose Caraway, with whom I felt an instant sense of connection. Although Rachel read my story for me, as the light in the room was too dim for my eyes, I joined the others on stage afterwards for interaction with our audience. I also managed quite nicely by signing copies of our X-rated book with an X placed beside the title of my story, since my left and dominant arm had been weakened by the stroke.
When the signing concluded, my 74 year-old husband who’d attended the reading with me, chatted with Rose and Dayv, expressing that I’d felt I’d earned the privilege of being there that night, and stroke or no stroke wouldn’t have missed the event for the world.
(In my view, the difference between a coward and a hero is the hero is not stopped by fear, and I’m delighted to report I was not.)
I’m as much of a talker as my Sir is a strong, silent type. I shared a bit about my three-decade long erotic relationship with him. The relationship resulted from a personal ad I placed in the late San Francisco Bay Guardian in late 1983, seeking a husband/Dom/life partner all rolled into one — a first date so dynamic it went on all night. At age 71, I’ve had sufficient erotic experience for a small sex-starved country. (My story in BWE, Two Doms For dinner, was real-life inspired, as is much of my erotic writing — a pleasure to experience and write about as well.)
Rose and Dayv expressed genuine interest that I’d written a memoir, now submitted to publishers, titled PERFECT STRANGERS: One Woman’s Journey Through The Swinging Seventies, about being a swinging single mom in an era of unprecedented personal freedom. They also appeared to enjoy our old-time tales of being a BDSM couple back in the 80s, and on into current times. By the time we’d parted company that evening, Sir and I felt we’d encountered a couple who mirrored us in their obvious love and dedication to each other and their chosen lifestyle. We left feeling we’d just made new friends.
I was thrilled when Rose contacted me soon after, requesting an interview for her podcast about my lengthy sexual history. Even more so when she expressed that my erotically adventurous nature had inspirational value to others, too important not to be shared.
So far I am loving my fifteen minutes of fame. It still amazes me how sadly undervalued erotic pleasure is in our culture. Enjoying the pleasure of the flesh has long been considered a traditionally made domain. But in recent years erotic literature written by strong, self-directed women has risen to the forefront, expressing sexual interaction from the female point of view. I want to shout out an enormous thank you to the Caraways. If my erotic adventures serve inspirational purpose and in any way enriches the body of sexual knowledge existing in the world — then Rose and Dayv’s brilliant and insightful documentation of those adventures has equal value as well.
And I ask you; if sexual delights were not meant to be enjoyed by women, what then would be the purposed of our having clits?
I’ve been dragging my feet about blogging for months now, since in addition to being a technologically challenged individual, I’ve had concerns about writing enough of interest to sustain continued postings. But with my website up and running, I realize it’s time to get moving because my birthday is in September after which I’ll no longer be sixty-nine, and I’m not sure seventy and still sexual would have the same ring.
So welcome to my blog and why am I starting one anyway? One reason is that as a relatively new erotica writer whose publishing credits are gradually mounting, it seems appropriate to begin publicizing myself and my stories, as well as the awesome editors who chose to include them in their oh-so-hot erotic anthologies.
Speaking of oh-so-hot, I can’t say enough about the latest book I’m in: Sex Still Spoken Here, an Erotic Reading Circle Anthology (ERC), published by the Center of Sex and Culture (CSC), in San Francisco. And kudos to editors: Dr. Carol Queen, ERC co-facilitator and CSC co-founder; Jen Cross, of Writing Ourselves Whole and ERC co-facilitator, and Amy Butcher, author of Paws forConsideration and ERC participant.
Being included in this book has special meaning to me, since I’ve joined this writing community in 2010 as a fledgling writer, and found in it the inspiration, support, and encouragement I needed. I have a hunch there will be more ERC anthologies to follow and hope to have a story in every one. ERC meets on the fourth Wed of each month. The book launch party will be Wed, 9/24, at CSC, 1349 Mission Street. I’ll be there reading from my work and others will too. I hope to see you there.
Dorothy Freed 