Newseater - Adult Edition

Ever wonder how the love child of Aldous Huxley and Neal Stephenson would incorporate Barbarella’s unlimited orgasmic potential into epic stories and thaumatophilic explorations? Yes or no, you should check out Erotic Mad Science.

Fresh off the blog roll at Indie Nudes, Erotic Mad Science is as invigorating as a cyberpunk penis pump. Most of the posts seem to be justifications of tropes and themes present in his screenplay-style story series (which are certainly worth reading), and, to be honest, there’s less visual nudity compared to some other blogs we’ve plugged, but don’t let that discourage you.

If your genitals and brain are in equally good working condition, you will enjoy Erotic Mad Science. Do you wonder why water is erotic? Or why the Green Fairy from absinthe fame is so damn sexy? Or have you ever wished for a Pygmalion style love affair with a cyborg cleft from your own genetic material? These are questions and desires that deserve to be explored, and Dr. Faustus is just the man for the job.

· Erotic Mad Science (eroticmadscience.com)

Original post by Ottimo Massimo

Welcome back to the Fleshbot Book Club-your chance to get a sneak peek at some of the hottest erotic literature out now. Today’s selection comes from Cleis Press’s In Sleeping Beauty’s Bed: Erotic Fairy Tales, by Mitzi Szerteo.

The following excerpt is from “Cinderella.”

Attired in all the magical finery her fairy god- mother had bestowed upon her, Cinderella was escorted to the palace for her wedding to the Prince, who found her even lovelier than she had been in memory. Upon seeing bothof the exquisitely heeled glass slippers on her dainty feet, he gathered her teetering form into his arms and carried her up the stairs to their matrimonial bedchamber, which had been thoughtfully prepared for this special moment with candles and perfumed sheets and a lute player strumming and singing in an antechamber. Making haste to draw the bolt on the door securely behind them, the Prince placed his beautiful bride with marked gentleness upon the satin-covered bed, where she lay flushed and trembling. Thanks to the parsnips procured from her father’s garden, Cinderella had some small knowledge of the matters that transpired between a man and a woman. Furthermore, she frequently overheard her parsnip-collecting stepsisters discussing the subject with a markedly unwholesome relish, and she closed her eyes in happy anticipation of the loving lips that would soon be covering her own.

Rather than presenting his Princess with a tender kiss, however, the bridegroom, who had by now grown quite feverish with desire, plucked the glass slippers from Cinderella’s tiny feet, chafing the flesh of her heels in his impatience to remove them. Ripping the laces from the perilously straining front of his specially embroidered wedding breeches, the Prince plunged the bulky protuberance he had released into the right slipper, babbling incoherent words of love as he drove it back and forth across the foot-heated instep. Paying no mind to the damage inflicted upon his hands from the dagger-sharp heel, he performed the same ceremony with the left, his hips charging faster and faster, as did the purple-crowned object jutting out from his unfastened breeches. By the time he finished, frothing lakes of equal depth and stickiness filled the glass of each slipper.

And the Prince and Princess lived happily ever after. Especially the Prince, who had at long last located the missing mate for the dainty little spikeheeled slipper that had fallen from a dainty little foot. For now that he was in possession of both, he vowed to fill them with his love each and every day.

Excerpted from In Sleeping Beauty’s Bed: Erotic Fairy Tales written by Mitzi Szerteo and published by Cleis Press.

The book is also on sale at Amazon.

Copyright (c) 2009 by Cleis Press.

If you’re an author or a book publicist and you want to participate in the Fleshbot Book Club, send email to Lux Alptraum.

Original post by Lux Alptraum

Welcome back to the Fleshbot Book Club-your chance to get a sneak peek at some of the hottest erotic literature out now. Today’s selection comes from Amorous Woman, an erotic novel by Donna George Storey.

Amorous Woman is the tale of an American’s sensual affair with all things Japanese, published by Neon/Orion Books. View the trailer, a celebration of traditional erotic prints on YouTube.

Naomi smiled, her gaze lingering on my lips. “Have you ever kissed a woman before, Meg?”

I met her eyes. “No, never.”

Her amber eyes flickered. She knew I was lying. And she liked me for it.

She closed her eyes and bent toward me. I knew what would come. The soft meeting of lips, the unhurried dance of tongues, the moment that stretched into forever. I was so used to Kimura’s tobacco-spiked kisses, Naomi’s tasted sweet, like overripe fruit with a touch of mint. She lay down beside me. We turned to each other and kissed again, our fuzzy robes pressed together.
My pulse was racing. This kissing part was easier this time, but I still didn’t know the rules. Could I do anything I wanted now-anything at all? In a rush of daring, I slipped my hand under her collar and curled my fingers around her satin-covered breast. It was warm and springy, like a cushion. My palm prickled.

She made a low, humming noise.

Deep inside my belly, my body hummed in reply. But my mind wasn’t so sure. Did she really like it? Or was it all an act?

As if in reply, Naomi pulled away from the kiss. She flashed me another knowing smile as she rose up on one elbow and pulled open the belt of my robe.

Without really meaning to, I glanced over at Kimura, sitting in the armchair by the window, cigarette in his hand. His eyes were fixed on us-as one might expect of a man in a hotel room with two women making out on the bed beside him—but his expression surprised me. Behind the glint of lust was a hint of anxious concern, even sadness. I wasn’t sure what he was feeling, but I did know I couldn’t go on with those wistful eyes watching my every move.

“Kazu,” I said. “Come here.”

Obediently he stood and walked over to the bed.

“I want you to be with me, too. Or is that too selfish?”

He shook his head and smiled.

While Kimura quickly peeled off his clothes, Naomi undressed me and pulled her own robe over her shoulders. Kimura crawled into bed on my other side. Instinctively I turned to face Naomi and pressed my back against him, forming a barrier between them with my body.

“You are selfish,” Naomi whispered, a teasing glint in her eye, but she didn’t seem to mind having the front of me all to herself.

She brushed my erect nipple with her finger. I shivered. Her tongue flicked over her lips and she scooted down to follow up with a kiss. Then Kimura began kissing my neck, his hard-on bobbing against my ass. His hand circled around between my legs to tease my cleft with maddeningly delicate strokes.

Surrounded by bodies, one behind and one in front, it was hard not to compare them. Kimura was a hard, hot wall pushing into me. Naomi, still in her silk teddy, was soft and faintly moist, drawing me toward her. Timidly, I reached out to touch her hair, but it was stiff between my fingers, from mousse or hairspray perhaps? What was she thinking as she fixed her hair for the evening ahead-playing out a lesbian scene with an old client’s girlfriend?

I moved my hand away. Maybe I shouldn’t ask questions. Maybe it was better to lie back and let them do everything, drifting wherever their hands and lips would guide me.

I felt another hand creep between my thighs. Kimura paused mid-stroke, then dutifully pulled away.

“You’re so smooth down here, Meg,” Naomi whispered, brushing my lips with her fingertips. Indeed, Kimura had shaved me earlier that day between our room service breakfast and our morning fuck. Then she took my hand and placed it between my own legs. “I’d love to watch you touch yourself. Show me how you like it.”

Excerpted from Amorous Woman, by Donna George Storey.

The book is also on sale at Amazon.

Copyright (c) 2009 by Donna George Storey.

If you’re an author or a book publicist and you want to participate in the Fleshbot Book Club, send email to Lux Alptraum.

Original post by Lux Alptraum

Welcome back to the Fleshbot Book Club-your chance to get a sneak peek at some of the hottest erotic literature out now. Today’s selection comes from Cleis Press’s Playing with Fire, edited by Alison Tyler.

The following excerpt is from “Hot on the Tin Roof,” by I.K.Velasco.

There was the time when she’d handcuffed herself to the bookshelves at the library, the 58th Street branch. I found her on the fifth floor, medieval history section. I rocked her against the shelves, shaking the whole row as the leather-bound books clapped the linoleum. Both hands were bound. I always wondered how she’d accomplished that by herself.

There was the time at the Met. While the members of the board and the honored sponsors had cocktails and hors d’oeuvres in the main hall, I fucked her in the Asian Art wing. We did it under the watchful eye of the Standing Buddha, fifth century Gupta period. The mottled red limestone matched the flush of her skin.
There was the time when she’d followed me home, and I’d found her on the Queens West. The subway car stayed empty until Canal Street, but her eyes stayed focused on the windows and the whispering doors, looking for those strangers, for the danger. Her hands clutched the bar above, her craving apparent by the stretched, distended muscles of her arms.

There were those times and many others. But this wasn’t the same. There had always been that inky gloom, some blanket of protection in the shadow of night. In the heat of this summer day, there was the luminous glare, the harsh radiation. These are the sources of danger-the light that eats the shadows, exposing reality within. I felt safer in the dark.

I finally looked at her. She looked at me. She was anxious. I could tell from the tightness in the corners of her mouth. Her eyes stayed clear, glassy black lakes. I had delayed enough. She wouldn’t ask again. She didn’t have to.

I undressed and as the cloth released my skin, there was that perilous exposure—that heat touching the fleshy surface and everything inside. I shivered.

I stood in the inch of water, my feet between her legs. She twisted up toward me, her palms on my hips. Her mouth was there, too fast. She was always this way-quick to act, eager to consume. I pulled away, clutched her shoulders, and moved underneath. She hovered, the wave of her hair brushing my chest. There was the harsh sunlight, mercurial incandescence surrounding the glow of her silhouette. I closed my eyes, crushed her mouth. She tasted like dynamite. There was the burn there, the fever of her softness surrounding my length, swallowing me into her.

“Mmm…it’s hot out here,” she said.

I opened my eyes. The haze swam into focus on her wayward smile. Not directed at me. I followed her gaze and watched the stranger wave from the next rooftop.

Excerpted from Playing with Fire an anthology edited by Alison Tyler and published by Cleis Press.

The book is also on sale at Amazon.

Copyright (c) 2009 by Cleis Press.

If you’re an author or a book publicist and you want to participate in the Fleshbot Book Club, send email to Lux Alptraum.

Original post by Lux Alptraum

Welcome back to the Fleshbot Book Club-your chance to get a sneak peek at some of the hottest erotic literature out now. Today’s selection comes from Cleis Press’s Pleasure Bound, edited by Alison Tyler.

The following excerpt is from “Yes, Master,” by Donna George Storey.

After the long, sweaty commute home, I was ready for some serious relaxation. So I’d get one of my dad’s beers from the fridge, go up to my room, strip down to my underwear, and switch on “I Dream of Jeannie” reruns until Mom called me downstairs for dinner. I’d do a little belly dance to the opening credits, then settle back on my bed, the cold beer bottle resting on my chest, to float along with the zany hijinks and comic misunderstandings. After a few swallows of beer, I wasn’t even really paying attention to the story. I was just giving old Major Nelson the eye and wondering what the hell was wrong with him. Didn’t he have a dick? Here he had this beautiful blonde female ready to do whatever he wished, and all he asked her to do was make dinner when he got home from astronaut training.

By the commercial break, I was still staring at the TV, but I was long lost in my own much hotter show about what those two would really do if Major Nelson had a functioning heterosexual libido. It was all pretty filthy. The Master was always in control, of course, and he’d tell her, “No more blinking and nodding, we’re doing this my way.” Then he’d take scissors and snip holes in her costume to expose her nipples and blonde thatch so he could caress her naughty parts as she served him dinner.

Next it was off to the bedroom where he’d make her dance and rub her breasts and finger her pussy right in front of him, while he asked her dirty questions-Is this making you wet, Jeannie? Have you been dreaming of fucking me all day when you were cooped up in your little bottle? And she’d have to say “Yes, Master,” because it was true. Sometimes he’d even make her masturbate with her bottle before he’d give her what she really wanted-his big, heat-seeking missile thrusting inside her. Once they were fucking he’d let her use her powers again to do it in all kinds of kinky genie-only positions. My favorite variation was the “magic carpet” where she’d be impaled on his cock, but levitated with her legs crossed in front of her. With a blink and a nod, she’d twirl round and round on him like a corkscrew until he shot his wad into her with a deep groan. Of course, all the while I was doing everything the Master commanded, too, palming my tits and strumming my clit, then kneeling on my bed, as if I were straddling him, and wiggling my ass like an exotic dancer. I got so hot imagining his smoldering gaze stroking me like a wet tongue, his soft but stern voice urging me on to greater depravities, that I came with a muffled groan of my own, just in time for Mom’s dulcet “Dinner’s ready” floating up from the kitchen.

Yes, Major Nelson—or rather my Major Nelson, the sexually insatiable dom—sure helped me get through a long, hot summer.

It turned out he was a tough act to follow.

Back at school that fall, I found plenty of guys willing to warm my bed in the usual wham-bam college-boy way, but I still dreamed of the Master. I even splurged on a Jeannie costume and wore it to a big frat party the Saturday before Halloween. Every guy I talked to popped a boner at the sight of my veil and pink harem pants-my first taste of genie power. Only one rubbed my bottle just right, though, a guy named Troy, dressed as Captain Kirk. He looked me up and down and drawled, “Is it true you genies have to grant your Master’s command no matter what he asks?”

Excerpted from Pleasure Bound an anthology edited by Alison Tyler and published by Cleis Press.

The book is also on sale at Amazon.

Copyright (c) 2009 by Cleis Press.

If you’re an author or a book publicist and you want to participate in the Fleshbot Book Club, send email to Lux Alptraum.

Original post by Lux Alptraum