Circlet Press: Welcome to Circlet 2.0

Like a Chill Down Your Spine: Erotic Ghost Stories
edited by Artemis Savory

Deadline: March 31, 2012
Sometimes you get the feeling that someone is waiting in the shadows and watching you . . . what if there is someone there? What if they are just waiting to reach out and grab you, and find all the sensitive places that make you want to scream? Ghosts have haunted living beings through the ages, but they can tempt as well. Circlet is looking for your erotic stories of ghosts: in the bedroom, in the woods, or in long-unused, spirit-filled castles. Intense suspense and pleasure blend into one in this anthology of supernatural temptations.

All sexualities and gender expressions are welcomed.

This ebook anthology is being edited by Artemis Savory for Circlet Press. Artemis previously edited the anthology Like a Moonrise, which collected erotic coming of age stories of shape-shifters and were-creatures.

For submission details, read on. Read the remainder of this entry »

Welcome to an exciting erotic fantasy serial! Incubus Tales by Hushicho takes us into the world of Dhiar, an Incubus in the infamous underground city of Noctemberg where Dhiar is proprietor of a very special shop, and sensuality is his stock in trade.

30th Night — The Last Day of Our Love

“You really have to go?” Dhiar pouted, sticking his lower lip out as his hands kneaded along the angel’s foot. His thumbs circled outward, along the tissues and muscles and connections.

Siros looked down to the Incubus, slowly smiling, moving his toes. “Only for a little while,” he murmured. “And I’m sure you won’t be bored. There are plenty of handsome gentlemen in this city.”

“And just handsome men who aren’t so much gentlemen,” Dhiar quipped, giggling as he worked his hands up over the angel’s ankles, over his calves and shins, around his knees dallying and dipping his face down to kiss each once. “I’m sure there will be rapturous lovers where you’ll be?”

“I doubt it.” Siros laughed, lifting one leg slowly, rubbing the inner knee along Dhiar’s shoulder. “I’ll be back before you know it, and we’ll pick right up. I’ll miss you terribly…I’m so glad you understand.”

Dhiar just laughed, nosing between the other man’s legs, along his bare length. “I’m so glad you understand! It’s so very rare to find a lover who can appreciate the differences…giving space, and giving respect and love.”

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Erotic Shakespeare: The plays of Shakespeare have inspired many writers through the ages, spawning countless updates, rewrites, and adaptations — and providing countless more possibilities yet to be explored… including in the erotic realm. We’re looking for stories that play with the sensual side of Shakespeare: from love potions and transformations to crossdressing and mistaken identities to overwhelming passion that defies all barriers. The play you choose might not be traditionally considered bawdy, but then again it might?

Submission deadline is 3/15/2012.

All sexualities and gender expressions are welcomed.

This ebook anthology is being edited by Nikola Klaus and Cecilia Tan for Circlet Press.

For submission details, read on. Read the remainder of this entry »

Title: Pete and Sarah’s Guide to Seasonal Sex: Winter 2011

Author: Peter Birch and Sarah Berry

Publisher: Andrews UK Limited

Year: 2011

Review by Victoria Pond

This short book compiles interesting, sex-positive tidbits. It’s got short stories, fluffy celebrity interviews, a run-down of interesting kinks, and a few guide-y articles.

Geared toward fairly vanilla women, it makes a stab at opening the world of sexuality a little bit more. For instance, the three stand-out pieces (in order of appearance) are:

1)     First short story. All about a woman who is trussed up as Christmas dinner for a large party. It’s a sexy, gentle introduction to the ideas of dirty talk, orgies, and using food in play. And I do mean gentle. Everything about this story could be classified as “wonderfully sweet” (from the honey they pour into the sauce on up).

2)     Interview with Buck Angel. This female-to-male (FTM) transsexual has been doing some interesting work in the porn industry, and he’s got a lot to say about learning to love your body and being polite to your partners. All that etiquette and self-identity mixed with all that adultness!

3)     Spanking 101. One of the actual guides in this book, it starts from first principles, both physically and mentally, and teaches how best to first spank yourself… and then try with partners. I immediately tested the technique with satisfying results.

Lovely as it is, don’t let the title fool you. This book is neither a guide nor wintry. For instance, only three articles could be construed as teaching you how to do something. And the periodic winter theme focuses solely on Christmas. Post-Christmas, it’s still a good read, but it’s also a bit disappointing. Here we are in January and February–mid-winter months–and there’s nothing special.

Overall a sweet little tome to make you feel good about your erotic horizons, whatever they may be.

Buy it from Amazon.com, Amazon.co.uk, and iTunes

Her Master’s Voice
by Andrea Trask

“What big ears you have,” Red commented from the doorway. He sensed more than saw the all-over stiffening of the figure in the bed. Laughing, he ducked the pillow that came flying. Boots and trousers joined it in abandonment upon the floor, and he stepped closer to the oversized bed, a family heirloom handed down from the mother’s mother of its current occupant.

“And what big eyes,” Red continued the familiar, teasing litany as the peepers peered over the edge of the crazy-quilt counterpane. He hadn’t turned on the light, and they glittered at him, silvery in the shadow he cast. It was familiar litany, yet not nearly worn out; it gained him the sight of teeth bared in a grin and a growl that raised hairs down the back of his neck. They were elongating already, and that gave Red a moment’s pause. Didn’t the teeth usually take a little longer, giving him time enough to get closer during the change? Too late to stop, though — not if he didn’t want to get ripped into.

No, not stop — do better, instead. He reached the edge of the bed, eyes twined in eyes, and he bared his own very blunt teeth in a slow and knowingly wicked grin. “And such big teeth — and growling? What’s the matter… that time of the month?”

With a snarl she exploded from the blankets at him. A gleeful rush of adrenaline flooded Red’s limbs as he side-stepped and grabbed at her, twisting hard and yanking her back around like the most bizarre of discus to slam her stomach-down against the edge of the bed. One of his hands clamped at the back of her neck, feeling skin slipping away under sprouting fur as she caught her breath and snarled again, the first letter rolling like tumbling gravel. “Red-”

Red was ready for the backward lurch that followed, stopping it with the slam of his own hips against her rump; the old bed creaked and scraped a little on the floor. He could feel her heat through his unders — at least, until the claws finished hardening at the ends of her fingers and she lashed out and back with blind purpose, shredding the sides of his smallclothes. They scraped hard, slicing hot welts into his hips, and he bent down over her with a groan, the weight of his chest upon her back as he caught a pointed, furred ear in his teeth. It muffled his muttered, “What. Sharp. Claws.” As if her change were somehow catching, the sibilant ‘s’ elongated into a hiss around that slip of increasingly pointed flesh.

Her claws scraped again, her panties joining the other shredded cloth on the floor, and she surged forward. Red let her, his hand sliding down her spine after her ear dragged out of his teeth, and his fingers curled to drag through her lush chestnut pelt, and dig in, gripping again. He pressed down with that one hand, and her rump lifted in counterpoint, pink glistening and almost glaring, presented to him between the now heavily furred triangle of her thighs. “Rrrr…. Red!” she demanded now, growl resolving to a whine.

He obliged her need, knees nudging hers apart (the better to slide up behind her), and he split his wolf open. Short and hard, fast and unfettered with his fingers digging into her waist, Red could feel the fur lining the curves of it underneath her thin and satiny nightgown. He marveled at the feel of it, smooth and gliding over the freshly-sprouted pelt, here cool, there warm. One finger stroked softly: just a little, and just for a moment. Maybe someday he’d find a way to raise her wolf to something gentle, something soft — a way to pet and stroke her fur the way he did her skin.

Someday. Not today.

Today she was bent down before him, growling like something feral just barely tamed by the need she knew he could satisfy — it was a delight to do so, working into her heat until he could feel the sweat beading on his forehead, rolling down his cheek to disappear somewhere off his jaw.
Her claws dragged ruts in the many-patched quilt beneath her. He imagined letting her win for once, and what those claws would do to him. His hips throbbed in warning reminder and Red groaned, nearly losing himself into her then. So close, yet he waited, bending to inhale the scent of her neck and bite the curve of it, holding. His hips drew back, and then he slammed forward as if trying to meld his coppery curls to her chestnut ones, and they both howled. His human voice sounded as bestial as his lover’s in that moment of shuddering abandon.

The hot rush faded slowly, and as it did he bent to lay himself against her spine, crumpling onto his side and dragging her into the curve of his body. The layer of fur had already melted like lotion back into her skin, and as he nuzzled against her neck, panting, he could see her ears receding to rounder, more human shape. He licked slowly up toward her ear and she giggled, the rough growl smoothing out of the sound even as she uttered it. Claws dragged along his bare forearm tucked under the soft globes of her breasts, and then pushed forward along the same paths, retreating with each inch from thick points into thinner, flat fingernails, and she mumbled something.
What it was, he didn’t quite catch it.  He rumbled a query into her ear, straining to hear the haughty reply, which came sleepily as her fingertips still stroked his arm.

“Good boy.”

Welcome to an exciting erotic fantasy serial! Incubus Tales by Hushicho takes us into the world of Dhiar, an Incubus in the infamous underground city of Noctemberg where Dhiar is proprietor of a very special shop, and sensuality is his stock in trade.

29th Night — Oh, Maker

Transitions were always the most exciting and dreadful parts of any journey. All the questions and possibilities presented hope and despair both, and none of them could be certain until the destination. As the old saying went, “getting there is half the fun.”

This trip, however, ended quickly enough and the transition was brief indeed. Dhiar stretched as he lit a coal for the incense, placing it in the censer and hanging it from the hook he dedicated to it, in the shop. He brushed his hair back with his fingers, out of his eyes, and looked around.

Read the remainder of this entry »

Welcome to an exciting erotic fantasy serial! Incubus Tales by Hushicho takes us into the world of Dhiar, an Incubus in the infamous underground city of Noctemberg where Dhiar is proprietor of a very special shop, and sensuality is his stock in trade.

28th Night — Oh to Be in Love

“I hope you’re not getting bored with the Great City,” Dhiar all but whispered, his arms coiled around the angel’s as they continued down the path.

Siros looked suddenly to the side, to face the Incubus, smiling to him with a little surprise in his countenance. “How could I? It’s endlessly interesting! There are countless places to go, countless things to do…and one magnificently special Incubus to do them with.”

All around and above them curled the underground gardens, subterranean and lush below the city of Dis itself. The winding passages twisted this way and that, coming to entrances and exits like some sort of floral subway.

Read the remainder of this entry »

Welcome to an exciting erotic fantasy serial! Incubus Tales by Hushicho takes us into the world of Dhiar, an Incubus in the infamous underground city of Noctemberg where Dhiar is proprietor of a very special shop, and sensuality is his stock in trade.

27th Night — Where You Are

Dhiar reclined on his chaise lounge, sipping some slushy drink that seemed less and less frosty with every passing moment.

“You know, I’m not really a beach person, but I really do like it here.” He adjusted the sunglasses on his face. “It’s so…’my pace’. You know?”
Beside him, lying on a large towel on the sand, Siros stretched out wings and arms with a steadily-spreading smile. “You mean like…taking things at your own measure? Taking them as they come? Yes, it seems that way.” He looked up at the sky, then at the crashing water, wave after wave tumbling in. “It’s remarkable that it could be so warm here and so cool in the rest of the city.”
The Incubus rolled his shoulders back, reaching up with his free hand to scratch at the center of his bare chest. “Yes, well…that’s a part of the Abyss too. You can go one place and it’s almost always one season, another place will be another, aside from a few special occasions… fortunately, the public transportation is awfully good, isn’t it?”

Read the remainder of this entry »

Welcome to an exciting erotic fantasy serial! Incubus Tales by Hushicho takes us into the world of Dhiar, an Incubus in the infamous underground city of Noctemberg where Dhiar is proprietor of a very special shop, and sensuality is his stock in trade.

26th Night — Eden

Dhiar contemplated the sleeping man. Siros presented even more of an pure portrait as he slept. His bare chest rose and fell so softly, his lashes moved slightly every so often, and his wings lightly fluttered with them.

He closed his eyes again and pressed against the angel’s side, breathing deeply and slowly. His journey into night had been long, and he hoped sleep would take him soon. It always seemed easier in Dis. The dreams somehow always seemed like they were closer, almost enough to touch at any moment in time.

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Time On His Hands
by D. Mark Alderton

“It’s about parallel lines in time,” Professor Johnson explained. “Time travel is perfectly possible, it’s just difficult.”

I was really too old for this kind of stuff, but the magazine had sent me to interview the 29 year old wunderkind and it was just another assignment. “So, Professor, have you done any time travelling yourself?”

“Indeed I have. I have gone through the millennia looking for the perfect woman. Someone smart, beautiful, and who could inspire us to scale the sexual heights.”

This was starting to get interesting. I don’t know if my editor would go for “Perv Professor Travels Through Time” but what did I have to lose? “Where did you go?”

“I started out with the most famous women in history. But they were disappointing. Cleopatra was young and nubile, but too kinky for my tastes.”

“Kinky?”

“Yes, she was only interested in asp play. Then I sought out Helen of Troy.”

“Did her face really launch a thousand ships?”

“More like they used her face to carve a thousand ships. It was one disappointment after another. You know who was the worst? Marie Antoinette.”

“How so? She was supposed to be one of the most stunning women of 18th century France.”

“And she was… from a distance. Do you know what personal hygiene was like in 18th century France? There’s a reason they used all that perfume and powder.”

“It sounds like you were disappointed,” I said, preparing to close my notebook.

“Oh, no, I realized I was focusing on fame instead of looking for someone who would challenge me as an equal. I found her right here on campus.”

“Well that was convenient.”

“Sixty years ago. She was a graduate student. I met her, told her I came from the future, and she didn’t bat an eyelash. The science was way too advanced for her, of course. It would have been too advanced for Einstein, who was still alive at that point. But we connected on an intellectual level, and then on an emotional and physical one as well.”

“I thought women were pretty repressed back then.”

“Not her. Oh no. She was a free thinker. Every generation thinks it discovered sex. Well, if anyone was an explorer, she was. Did you know you could perform sixty-nine while suspended from a trapeze? She could. She had one installed in her room. She even made it adjustable so I wouldn’t strain myself while I, um, explored her honeypot.” He seemed to blush at this, but then he went on. “I don’t how she controlled herself while all that blood was rushing to her head when, at the same time, all that blood was rushing to, ahem, my head.” He blushed some more.

“Really?” I was skeptical. “Where do you suppose she got these ideas?”

“She was fearless. She had found a book of sexual positions in the restricted section of the college library. We spent weeks working out all the kinks she found. I didn’t even know they had vibrators back then. One night when we were going at it I found out the hard way when I felt an unexpected visitor behind me. Thank goodness they had lube back then as well. Of course I could only stay for 24 hours at a time, but I remember another time when we tried a position called ‘the Crab’…”

“Hold on. What’s this about 24 hours? “

He suddenly calmed down from his frenzied memories. “Ah, we came up against the quantum time flux. Once I visited a particular day, I couldn’t go back. I could go to the next day, but after a while the restricted zone spread. After a while the entire decade was closed off to me and I couldn’t go back at all. She was not only the greatest fuck of my life. She was the great love of my life and now she was lost to me. And that’s why I asked you here today. I want you to help me find Martha Gruber for me…”

My jaw dropped. “Martha….”

“Yes, your mother…. Son. I’ve missed her terribly. I can’t go back, but YOU can. You can bring her forward. The paradox doesn’t affect people traveling forward in time. She could stay here. Go get your mother. Bring her to me. I’m aching for her, and not just in my pants.”

Now I started to blush. I had never known my father, but I still didn’t want to think of my mother as a sexual creature. “Hold on. If I even believe this wet dream of yours, why should I go back? If I can bring my mother into the present, who will raise me?”

“Don’t be silly, son. You’re already raised. We’d just be creating a parallel time line. Help us get back together. She’ll come. I know she will.”

“And if she won’t?”

“Oh, she will. Tell her I haven’t forgotten her during our separation.” And then he gave me a funny smile. “And tell her I’ve found a few books, too.”

–

D. Mark Alderton is the author of two previous e-stories for Circlet, the stand-alone “The Human Equation,” and “The Shock of the New,” appearing in the Like A Spark anthology. In his real life he has published several other books.  His friends still have no idea.