Sunday, November 08, 2009

"Deviantly Written"


Here's a fab 5-star review for K is for Kinky!

5.0 out of 5 stars Deviantly written
By ihavehissyfits

I loved several of the stories in this series. As with all of the books I have read in the "Alphabet Series" so far you have your good and bad stories. This book however I felt had nothing but the best collection of stories by far. Many of the stories were right in line with being kinky, some with a humorous twist and one told as a kitty in a kennel (one of my favorites). Excellent stories from all writers.

XXX,
Alison

P.S. Hey, Sommer—don't be scared of this necklace!

Are you a rock star?


Tomorrow's the last day to enter the drawing for this fabulouso bracelet from Metal Taboo! What are you waiting for? Go enter!

XXX,
Alison

"Unnecessarily Explicit"


Want one? The fabulous Buttonhead is making me 25 to give away! (They will be tiny 1-inch buttons—not the huge image staring you in the face right now!) Are you "unnecessarily explicit"? Then you definitely need one of these to pin to your lapel!

Drop me a note at msalisontyler at yahoo dot com with your snail-mail address, and I will pop a button in the post for you tout de suite!

XXX,
Alison

Blue Sky Sideways


I am an avid rewriter. Many of my stories have 12 or more versions. I tend to block in the framework and build from there. My word of choice is "layering." However, once a house—I mean, a story—is done, I rarely visit. Generally, I'm consumed by the next structure. Which is why I've been loathe to excavate my old files. I'd always rather start something new than blow the dust off the old.

Yet I've received a handful of requests for older titles. What I'm calling "Vintage Alison Tyler." See, way back in the 90s, I penned a slew of titles for Masquerade Books:

The Blue Rose
The Virgin
Dial "L" for Loveless
Dark Room
Venus Online
The Silver Key
Bondage on a Budget
Girls on the Go, ed.
Batteries Not Included, ed.
Blue Sky Sideways

Now, I'm working to add the books to my Kindle/PDF list. But this means (for the most part), revisiting. And honestly, I'm a little scared. Then I found this mini-review of Blue Sky Sideways this morning:

Get this book! It messes with your head in the most pleasant of ways.

And I've decided to pull out the dust rag and see what I find. This was my first single-author collection. An honor for a writer as green as I was when the book first came out. I'll let you know when the collection goes live!

XXX,
Alison

P.S. Gorgeous choker is called currency and is from Smashing.

Saturday, November 07, 2009

"hot and smoking fucking"


As I mentioned yesterday, this month's issue of "Erotica Revealed" features reviews of two books I edited for Cleis Press. Playing with Fire won a two-thumbs up from Steven Hart, who says:

The balance of the stories are clit-stroking, cum-choking, hot and smoking fucking with an inordinate amount of cock sucking. One does wonder with all the complaining one hears these days about the politics of sucking cock and particularly swallowing cum, that it is so prominent and detailed a feature of these stories. Nonetheless, all that suction does make for lively reading even if the outcome is always the same. That’s all perfectly fine, making Playing with Fire both steamy and fiery, as promised

I have to say, this may be my favorite pull-quote of all time: clit-stroking, cum-choking, hot and smoking fucking!

As to the other—I was unaware of anti-cock-sucking politics. Isn't that funny? Are people against that these days? And by people, I'd have to guess women, because I haven't ever heard of a man who was anti-cock-sucking or cum-swallowing. (At least, as it applied to him.) All I know is that when Sommer Marsden created her fabulously sexy Blow Hard Tour, there was a line nearly out the door of writers who wanted to be a part of the lick. I mean, list!

XXX,
Alison

Friday, November 06, 2009

"explore the darker side of BDSM"


Thanks to Shanna Germain for sending me the link to Erotica Revealed. I had somehow missed the new reviews this month. Pleasure Bound received two thumbs up from Lisabet Sarai, who said:

One of the things that I appreciate about Alison Tyler's anthologies is her willingness to explore the darker side of BDSM. Some stories in this volume—Sophia Valenti’s “On the Mend,” Tess Danesi's “Tears of All Kinds,” Stephen Elliott's “Once More Beneath the Exit Sign”—dwell more on the sadism component in the acronym. I don't necessarily prefer stories of really rough sex myself, but I know that they're part of the power spectrum and I applaud Ms. Tyler's discernment in including them in her books.

I am not talking about a lack of consent here. Mercy isn't in Marc's vocabulary—and for that I'm thankful begins Ms. Valenti's story. That sums it up. Some people crave a level of pain beyond what I'd seek. For some, real fear is truly arousing. Ms. Tyler recognizes this, unlike some editors who shy away from the darkness and treat BDSM as a kind of game.

Pleasure Bound is another exceptional collection of BDSM fiction--or is it fact?—from a daring and sensitive editor who clearly understands her topic from personal experience.


Read the whole thing here.

XXX,
Alison

P.S. Naughty Necklace is available here.

Hip, Hip, Hooray!


Hey, check it out! Jason Frost is an Amazon Top 1000 Reviewer!

Well after years of working, reading, reviewing, and heartache I have finally reached one of my goals. As of right now I am one of Amazon's Top 1000 reviewers. My number (for today at least) is #968.

Now... I just have to keep it!! When I say that it was heartbreak at times, I meant it. It's a small thing in this world but it's MY THING!! :-) Now... on to my next book...


Way to go, man!

XXX,
Alison

Ooooh, Panties!


I've been fighting the weather this morning. Sometimes, when the wind blows, we lose our internet. So I think Fetish Friday will have to wait for Salacious Saturday. Or Sultry Sunday....

But I have a few quick posts to slam up. So stay tuned! And Wind, please hold your breath for a moment. Will ya?

XXX,
Alison

Thursday, November 05, 2009

On Pins and Needles


During acupuncture tonight, I thought how odd it is that I need someone to actually stick needles in me before I can be still and quiet and in one place for any length of time. That realization cracked me the fuck up. But in a very low-key way. As I had needles in me.

XXX,
Alison (who adores this pin called Relics)

C is for Crave


Oh, so pretty. I can't even remember what I was looking for!

XXX,
Alison

I'm so bad at these...


I just heard that I was about to get a check for D&A. Those who know me well know how baffled I am with acronyms and abbreviations. So I looked it up:

Acronym Definition

D&A Drug and Alcohol
D&A Depreciation and Amortization
D&A Delivery and Acceptance
D&A Deals and Allowances
D&A Dry & Abandoned


It's for #3. (Much better, I think, than #5.)

XXX,
Alison

P.S. I've used these before. I've *bought* these before. And I love every last one of them.

Naked Erotica


I was thrilled to see that Naked Erotica just received a new five-star review on Amazon:

Touch me
By J. Kelley

I read Rachel Kramer Bussel's piece 'Touch' first. It's the story of two female lovers and the appreciation for the heat between them. Only way I can describe it: the honesty of every sentence just stunned me. I recommend the book just because this story is sultry, thought-provoking, wise and romantic. And because I can't adequately describe how good this story is - you just have to read it.


*****

Naked Erotica is one of my all-time favorite collections. So much so that I'm in the process of putting together a sequel. A few authors have asked me if I am co-editing this collection with Rachel Kramer Bussel. No, I'm not. She is editing her own collection of stories for a book called Naked to be brought out by Cleis Press—and her call for subs is up on her blog. My original deadline for stories was October 15th—but I do have a few slots open. If you'd still like to sub a story, please send me yours by December 1st.

XXX,
Alison

P.S. Divine rings by LovingAnvil are called Naked Stackers.

Coffee * Tea * Me


I am at a very odd place. This place is called my dining room table. Wait, that's not what I meant.

I'm at a very odd place in my writing career. This place is called "I have finished all my current deadlines."

What the holy fuck?

In all of my (mumble, mumble) years of writing, I have rarely been at this location before. Generally speaking, I've had seventeen different contracts waiting for me—a new project over every horizon.

Yes, a really exciting new collection is in the works—but I don't have the contract or deadline yet, so I am in wait mode there. And yes, I am putting together my Naked sequel—but a few writers asked for extensions, so I have put that book on the shelf for a few weeks. (Would you still like to send me a piece? Drop me a note at msalisontyler at yahoo dot com.)

Now, I am basking. Honestly. I would have thought I'd be jittery. Nervous. Even C is for Crazy. Instead, I'm drinking my coffee, puttering around my office, slowly putting together a new PDF/Kindle story that is filthy even by my standards. This not having pressure breathing down your neck thing? Priceless.

XXX,
Alison

P.S. My new crave is called Coffee Tea Me Necklace.

Wednesday, November 04, 2009

The Penis Mightier


Description:

To be read in the voice of Sean Connery: I've gotta ask you about the penis mightier...Gussy it up however you want, Trebek. What matters is, does it work? Will it really mighty my penis man?


I told you before—I never remember what I'm wearing. The other day, when I got to the front of a line, the cutie behind the counter said, "New York, how can I help you?"

And I stood there, like a nitwit, until I realized I was wearing a shirt with the words NEW YORK on the front. Um, duh.

Yesterday, I could not understand why people were grinning at me. Until I remembered: I'm wearing my "The Pen Is Mightier" shirt!

Thank god I wasn't standing in line with *this* one on! I can just hear the check-out guy: "Penis Mightier, how can I help you?"

XXX,
Alison

Third Time's the Charm


I told someone about my rejection file awhile ago, and the writer was all, "Huh? *You* get rejected?"

And I was like, "Yeah, baby. Come on over and I'll show you my collection."

Honestly, this doesn't happen to me so much anymore. Why? Because I don't sub so much anymore. Not that I'm too big to sub. But that I, well...I don't know. I'm just not subbing so much anymore. If I have a story I think might jibe with an editor or a website, I'll toss my piece into the ring. Otherwise, aside from working with my all-time favorite editor, I'm pretty satisfied with penning stories to sell on Kindle or PDF. (In fact, I have a new one to go up in a day or so. Watch this space.)

But I did write this one story. A unique piece for me. I slammed out the story last spring and sent it to a website. Not one that paid even. REJECTED. I took a breath and sent it to another website. REJECTED. And then a site I love came back online. I took two breaths and sent it to them. A few months passed. I was expecting to hear nothing or another REJEC... But today I got fabulous news: ACCEPTED!

As soon as the piece goes live, I'll hit you with a link.

But right now, I think I'll just sit here and pat myself on the back for a minute. Or two. Or even three. Because I've heard—third time's the charm.

XXX,
Alison

P.S. Lovely trio of rings is called Third Time's a Charm!

Tuesday, November 03, 2009

High Nostalgia



High Nostalgia, October 31, 2009
By Jo "Jo"

This book is incredibly evocative, a personal journey down memory lane. It's like reading someone's yellowed year book, or scrapbook, stepping into a photo of their childhood home and understanding what their house smelled like. I agree, it's great fun, to finger the curling photos and concert stubs and wander through someone's stories.

I like the time travel, it's understated and easily accepted, it doesn't get in the way too much, and it's such wish fulfilment. Who wouldn't want to go back and see their teenage lives with adult eyes?

When I was reading it, I somehow felt I could have done without the sex and just had the story. But that doesn't make sense now, does it? I mean, see the above paragraph. What better reason is there than to time travel, and sleep with the people from your past with all your grown up skills and superior emotional quotient!


Thanks, Jo! You're swell!

XXX,
Alison

The dream is always the same...


I loved that line from Risky Business! But *my* dreams are hardly ever the same. Last night, I dreamt I got to visit Sommer. She and I went shopping in Rehobeth Beach, at a thrift store, where I discovered a to-die-for, black-and-white leather motorcycle vest. One with a winding swirl of blazing white on the black asphalt of the leather. I was about to buy the vest, when I saw this young blonde girl looking at me. And I realized she had wanted the vest first. So I handed it over, with a crisp new $10 bill. The vest only cost $19.99.

Before I could blink, I was back at University. But not in that hideous way of being late for class, or naked for a test. I was out drinking with friends—pounding shots. Tequila, obviously*. And I got drunk in my dream—I'm not sure if I've ever been drunk in my sleep before. It was the oddest sensation. Because I wasn't actually drunk—just sleep drunk.

I woke up dazed.
Which is where I am right now.
Coffee will kill that beast. Back when the java's hot and my brain is on.

XXX,
Alison

P.S. *I received a mass email from an acquaintance's teenage daughter the other day, inviting me to her performance of the Nutcracker. "For those who don't know me," the email stated, "I'm a ballerina. Obviously." I don't know why, but that just cracked me up. I've been throwing "obviously" into my conversations ever since then. Because I'm a bitch. Obviously.

Monday, November 02, 2009

An Ensemble of Excellence



An ensemble of excellence!

By I Can Read

"Hurts so Good" is packed full of excellent stories with varying themes. Even better, it includes stories from several of my favorite writers! My favorite stories from this anthology would have to be "Panty Lines" by Sommer Marsden - the building eroticism in this story is delicious; and "Sting" by Jessica Lennox - a surprise encounter at a tattoo parlor leaves a young woman painfully aroused.

I can't think of a single anthology edited by Alison Tyler that I haven't enjoyed, and this one is no different! Well done!


XXX,
Alison

P.S. Vintage Romance Magnets are called Love Hurts So Good.

Oh, Happy Day!


The bad news is that my old computer is now departed. Luckily, I was able to scrape all of my stories and photos and novels-in-progress onto a back-up drive before the smoke started pouring out of the speakers. (And yeah, I had other back-ups, too. I've killed computers in the past.) The good news is that the laptop I thought was a loaner is actually a gift. Truly. My dad just hooked me up! So I am on a fast machine, with a turbo back-up system, and a space-age keyboard. (I'm still getting used to typing on these flat keys. They're much sleeker than I'm used to.)

The best news—I only am moving over projects that I want to work on. I was able to back-up old works and then hit DELETE. And god damn did that not feel fabulous in the most evil way possible. Do you know what I mean? I'm not bringing any baggage onto my new machine. I'm checking all those battered suitcases at the door.

Right now, I've got to play catch up. Because I'm on a laptop that works—and I've got a deadline to meet. My fingertips are revving to take this baby for a spin.

XXX,
Alison

Sunday, November 01, 2009

Life is good...


And I keep getting sex—so life is definitely good. What I love is how he can look at me afterwards and say, "Well, *that* was new." Because damn. We've been together forever. You know? So if he says something filthy that I've never heard before, or he bends me in some new fabulous way—well, hells bells. Three cheers for us, right?

How'd you spend your Sunday?

XXX,
Alison

Beware of White Lies

I love that I typed in "white lies" on ETSY, and this fabulous pendant from londongirl99 popped up!

Here's my white lie story: I didn't want to attend a party. Not because I don't like parties. But because I don't like one of the hosts at this particular party. You know those people who back you into the corner of the room and talk right up close to you, so you feel pinned to their web? That's how this person makes me feel. And I'm awful in situations like that.

So I lied. Sue me. I couldn't think fast enough. I said I was allergic to cats, because I remembered the party was being held at a place where cats have full run of the roost. Well, fuck me. The hostess said, "I presume you take allergy meds before you visit Georgia. Which one works best for you?"

God.

You know, the one in the bottle. The bottle that says tequila on the label.

Clearly, I'm the worst liar in the world. I should know better by now. But what was I supposed to say? Scratch that. I should have said I was busy—but then I would have had to come up with something else I was doing. This woman would have asked. Swear on my stack of porn, next time, I'll just say the truth: "Your partner makes my flesh crawl."

Heh.

XXX,
Alison

Bangles and Baubles and Diamonds — oh my!


Before the dream fades completely out of my head—I have to write it down. I dreamt I had written a term paper on jewels. My premise was that there are three different types: the first was the diamond sort (astronomically expensive), the second were dime-store quality (mass-produced, glittery), the last type I called Ramonas. Truly. These were one-of-a-kind pieces you could find at flea markets or thrift stores or estate sales. Ones that nobody else would have.

The paper was written in my neat and tiny handwriting from high school. Not the crazy-messy style I claim now. The paper received an initial grade of 84%, but was bumped to 110%. The trio of graders included in their comments pictures of "Ramonas" they'd seen on the street. The drawings were exquisite and showed that I had proven my point. A "Ramona" did not have to be valuable in order to be priceless.

The funniest comment I received was one asking why I had used so many expletives in a paper about jewelry.

Okay, off for some coffee while I await your expert dream analysis. Back later with a fabulous example of how a white lie bit me in the ass.

XXX,
Alison

P.S. Ivory Bubbles Cocktail Ring is by TZTUDIO.

Saturday, October 31, 2009

Forgot to say...


Happy Halloween! Be sure you practice safe hex!

XXX,
Alison

Hot? Sizzling? On fire?


Apparently, based on extensive research—or a search on ETSY—a lot of people consider hot + sexy to = the pretty boy from Twilight. But I was able to find this sexy magenta necklace—which is way more my speed!


Hot? Sizzling? On fire?
By Heather

OK, there are too many puns that can describe this book. All of them come back to this book being *good*. Not good as in, oh yeah that was pretty good. Not good as in salads are good. But good as in decadent piece of chocolate good. Special place on my nightstand good.

And I'm not generally a fan of anthologies. I like longer books, where I can settle in and go for a ride. But these? No settling in necessary. These are very well crafted stories which place you in the moment very quickly. Vivid snapshots of a certain moment, a certain situation, a certain feeling.


Thank you very much, Heather! Your review made my morning!

XXX,
Alison

Come on...


I was actually looking for something else entirely when I found this t-shirt. And now my mind is consumed with how clever this is. I was never all that good at origami. But I am pretty damn good at coming. I mean, coming up with killer t-shirts.

My computer has finally died. I cannot do any of the fancy little tricks to wake it up. (Like stand behind it and beg, "Please! Please! I have a deadline!") So I am on a borrowed computer that is so sweet, so fast, and so space age, I feel as if I am underdressed. You know? How dare I wear my little sweatpants and Wonder Woman tee while in the presence of a machine this powerful?

Heh.

Okay, now to try and peel off a few stories from my back-up drive so I can get to work. Wish me luck.

XXX,
Alison

Friday, October 30, 2009

Fetish Friday #23: Tickled Pink


Can you believe that I did not realize today was Friday until just now. Truly. I was puttering around the office, filing—my files basically consist of one big file, so that task is fairly easy—and a light bulb went off over my head. The problem now that we've reached 23 fetish Fridays, is that I can't always remember which fetishes I've already bathed in. Do you know what I mean? We've hit spanking. We've listened in on aural sex. We've dialed our lovers for a bit of phone sex. We've tied ourselves up in corsets.... At the start, life was easy. I typed in "fetish" on ETSY, and I went with whichever item tickled my fancy. Now, when you type in "fetish," up pop 2,054 results.

Wait. Did I just say, "tickled my fancy?" What a brilliant idea! Tickling, as a fetish, doesn't get as much play as you might expect. I mean, I've written a slew of tickling stories. But as an editor, I've read only a handful. I think this is because people who do not like being tickled are mildly (or even thoroughly) horrified by the thought. It doesn't seem as if anyone "kind of" likes tickling. You do, or you don't.

Am I right?

Of the 202 tickling references on my hard drive, most were written by me. Occasionally, there are mini tickling references within a story, like this description by Helena Black, in her story Pink:

Only when he’s squirming and his cock is swollen and full does she open herself to him, giving him what he has been hungry for. His hot breath tickles the smooth skin of her pussy, and his tongue on her clit sends a sharp sting of pleasure.

Or this one by Marie Potoczny from The Other Side of Sleep:

His fingers tickle my clit to the rhythm of his rocking. It is very quickly too urgent for kissing neck and shoulders now. And it is wet; there will be a wet spot on my side of the bed when we are finished, which will remind me to add laundry to the list of things to do, but not now. Now I forget for a little longer all the important things to do today, but not as important as this.

Jeremy Edwards runs his fingers over the concept in Le Petit Dejeuner:

I want to pet, tickle, squeeze, lick and ride her till our nerves melt together into soup. I want to see her nipples float on our sea of ecstasy and her lips mouth “I love you” from within the surf.

But I want to really dissolve into giggles with this one. I want to collapse and beg for mercy. I want Jack.

Jack had me bound, and almost as an afterthought, he gagged me. But even as he buckled the gag into place, he gave me the kindest of glances. He seemed to think he was doing me a favor, and I guess that he was. There was no way I would have been able to stay quiet through this.

Tickling. It’s one of my favorite fetishes to write about. Yet it’s not a turn-on I’ve explored often in my life. Because it’s pure torture. More so than spanking, or cropping, or any of those actual pain-involved punishments. The thought of being tickled—the mere silver-edged memory of it—makes my spine tingle. A shiver runs through me that I find difficult to control.

Jack probably could guess exactly how I felt about his plans—and, of course, he didn’t give a fuck. He was playing. And I was his instrument. He was enjoying himself. And I was his entertainment. He was tickling me, and I was writhing on the bed.

He ran his fingers everywhere. Making me squirm as much as the bindings would allow—which was little. Making me beg, which was impossible with the gag in place. Making me cry, because that was really all I could do. Tears streamed down my face as my muscles tightened and held.

How can tickling seem worse than a proper caning?

No idea. But it was. This was hell. And all Jack was doing was running his fingertips in the most delicate manner over my body. He learned quickly that my ribs were more sensitive than the area under my arms. That my feet weren’t worth tickling at all. And that if he really wanted to make me crazy, he need only focus on my inner thighs and the backs of my knees and then back up once more to my ribs….

He was a master at this, as I should have expected. He knew how long to prolong the game before giving me a breather. I could feel the muscles in my stomach cramping. Could feel how damp my hair was at the back of my neck. Why was he doing this? Why was he so enjoying my reactions?

Because I was entirely out of control. That’s the only thing I could figure. I couldn’t be self-contained for this encounter. I couldn’t be strong, couldn’t carry the pain, head down, biting my lip to keep myself in check. There was no fighting my body’s natural reaction. All I could do was shake and shudder and choke on the laughter that wouldn’t slip past the ball gag.

The breaks grew shorter. The tickling more intense. And suddenly I realized why Jack hadn’t cared about the scotch puddle in the bed. He was going to tickle me until I wet myself. And that moment wasn’t far off.

Now, my struggles intensified. Now, I begged him with my eyes, hoping that he’d read the desperation there. Sure that he could. And crushed when he refused to stop.

Why was he doing this?

Because he could. Because it was new. Because of the reactions I was giving him. If I’d been a cold fish, lying there without any response, he would have thought of something different. But I was absolutely electrified, made crazy by the contact of his fingertips, and Jack seemed almost to be mentally recording my every reaction.

“You’re fighting me still,” he observed softly during one of his brief pauses. “You don’t seem to understand, do you?”

I did. He wouldn’t stop until he got what he wanted. But I couldn’t. I just fucking couldn’t.

He kissed me, my forehead. My cheeks. “I expect nothing less,” he whispered, sounding infinitely pleased. “You never let me down.”

Then he was back in motion, and if I’d been free, I would have curled up in a fetal position and tried to protect all of my most tender places. Yet bound so precisely, hiding wasn’t an option.

And as Jack had said, giving in wasn’t an option either.

I knew what he wanted.
I knew how far he’d go.
And I knew that, stubborn girl that I am, he was going to have to work to get there.


Do you like it? Do you hate it? What does tickling mean for you?
If I missed a story of yours—tell me, and I'll link to you!

XXX,
Alison

Tie Me Up!



5.0 out of 5 stars Tie Me Up!
By Scarlett Greyson

I might as well have been bound and gagged while I read through this anthology. I barely put it down to go to work. Well, actually, that's a lie, I took it to work and read it on breaks and lunch. The fact that the tales were true only ratcheted up my captivation.

From Alison Tyler's exquisite introduction to Once More Beneath the Exit Sign by Stephen Elliott and everywhere in between the stories grab you, hold you, thrill you and conquer you. My personal favorites were Kristina Wright's Campfire Story and Shanna Germain's Deal, but I'm certain more will join their ranks when I reread this luscious volume.

Too hot to hold and too hot to put down, this one is definitely staying on my naughty shelf!


Ta very much, SG! I love how the different stories resonate with different readers.

XXX,
Alison

P.S. This Tie Me Up, Tie Me Down dress from Glamarita is made entirely from recycled neckties!

What's your poison?


I have just had the strongest coffee in the world. Swear to god. I don't know what I was thinking. Actually, I wasn't thinking. I need the coffee to think. Which is why I think I doubled the amount. And damn, if I am not whizzing around my office like something from outer space. That noise you hear? That is my heart throbbing at 1,000 beats a second.

Back in a minute. When I land.

XXX,
Alison

P.S. Killer coffee cups are from JMNPOTTERY.

Thursday, October 29, 2009

You know what I love?


I love how I asked for some help with reviews, and not one, not two, not three... but a whole slew of readers and writers responded! That makes me feel as if I'm part of a community. A kinky, filthy-minded, snarky, X-rated community.

5.0 out of 5 stars Saucy stories,
By J. Kelley

I bought the pdf of this, and this set of stories blew me away with the hotness. Every story is edgy and excellently written. Sommer Marsden's story 'Other Side of the Coin' is dangerously dirty fun with a husband and wife. Virgins have fun, too, in Sophia Valenti and Alison Tyler's stories. And then, Kristina Lloyd plays dirtiest of all with two men.

This is a must have of all the e-stories Alison Tyler's offered. And if you like this one, get Banging Rebecca.


Ta very much, J!

XXX,
Alison

P.S. Divine card by Neat Things is called I love everything about you. Especially your dick.

Menage a Trois — the New Black?


I had no idea menages were so commonplace! I guess Three Way was ahead of the curve!

Honestly, though. Are menages that big a deal? I had my first as a Freshman at UCLA. I've hit this before, but at the time, Playboy's Advisor said that a menage a trois was *always* two girls and a guy. Two guys and a girl (which was my intro to menages) equalled a gang bang. I still don't agree with that.

I told Sam that menages were becoming vanilla now. His response, of course, "My favorite flavor."

XXX,
Alison

P.S. Gorgeous bauble is called Menage a Trois.