Showing posts with label Licks Promises. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Licks Promises. Show all posts

Saturday, April 02, 2011

Thursday, April 29, 2010

The Tinkling of Tiny Silver Bells - In The Mammoth Book Of Best New Erotica

This is great news: my story of hippie-ghost love, "The Tinkling of Tiny Silver Bells," was just selected by my pal, Maxim Jakubowski for the next edition of his very-well-respected anthology series, The Mammoth Book of Best New Erotica.

If you don't want to wait until the anthology comes out you can read the same story - and lots of other juicy tales - in my collection, Licks & Promises. So what are you waiting for? Buy it!

Saturday, January 02, 2010

Grace & Beauty

I'm very excited to have some stories recently posted to the very-fun Grace & Beauty site. So head on over if you want to read "Blow Up" from Rude Mechanicals, and "Nighthawks" from Licks & Promises.

Be sure and keep an eye on the site as even more stories and such will be going up very soon!

Thursday, December 17, 2009

Kiss, Kiss, Hug, Hug From Licks & Promises

Here's a fun little story from one of my new collections, Licks & Promises. Well, I hope it's fun for you - but it might make you tear up a bit as well. It made me sniffle - and I wrote it!


Kiss, Kiss, Hug, Hug
By
M. Christian

We had played other games, this circle and I. Games of sex, pain, pleasure and everything betwixt, between, and off to the side.

Preface: San Francisco in a place called a dungeon to some, basement to others. It was just a typical Saturday night if you travel in the right circles. Yeah, you could call them gays, lesbians, straights, dykes, fags, hets, twisted fuckers -- whatever. They were just friends. And this was just a party.

The game was Kiss and Truth. Before we started, a hat was passed and we all dropped slips of paper into it. “Something very unique or very special about you” was what we were told to write. We did, diligently scrawling them on the black leather furniture and on the nearest convenient black leather friend.

“If you hear me say what you wrote, and then you get kissed -- or kiss, sing out,” the leader of this said, a large, lovely woman in a white dress, chiming finger symbols for our attention.

The lights were put out, except for one on in the corner where she sat with her black leather beret on her head. The room was soft felt: a warm, comfortable, intimate kind of darkness. I’d done so much in that room -- traveled through pain to sex to pleasure to laughter and back again that I knew it like I knew my own fingers. I knew everyone else there just about as well -- maybe as well as my toes.

“I have a twelve year old son named Josh.”

Our mustaches met, bristly forests itching together. Faintly hiding silken lips, heated tongues, flashing whiteness of teeth, I kissed the man named Jack. From across the room a voice (female? male? Could have been both, or one, together. Many in the room were part way between the two) sang out, and giggled. “Here!”

“I’m pregnant.”

She was short, with breasts heavy and firm. Hair a mad burst of curls. Her feet chimed with tiny bells. Lips thin and hard, with a faint fuzz of hair. Mouth a furnace of heat, like she burned somewhere down deep and her tongue was a flaming anaconda, wrapping and constricting around my own. “Over here!” a light, sparking voice said from close by.

The room was bursting with laugher, with little clicking whirls of giggles and the silent light of smiles. “I had a bad day at work.”

I don’t consider Jay really between he and she so it’s hard to say it Jay was on the way to boy or girl. Jay was Jay, unique and himself: rail thin, face a perfect blend of hard and soft, full and not, Jay’s lips are strong (like both) and so soft (like both). We kissed hot, and long, even after half the room chorused with “Yes” “Right here” “Damned straight”. Laughter. Laughter. Laughter.

“I got a new tattoo.”

A mountain of mad fun. I didn’t know his name, but there was always a smile on his lovely lips. Ever since I’d seen him, smiling like a San Francisco Gay Leather Buddha, I’d wanted to plant one on his gorgeous face. It was a worshipful act, a divine act. Maybe not sex heat in it, but love all the same. He was next to me so I turned and looked him in the eyes -- matching intent with intent. His lips were spiced, a lingering bite of cinnamon and ginger from the cookies laid out upstairs. He didn’t offer me anything more than his velvet lips and I didn’t reach in to take more. This was a devout kiss, a spiritual kiss. My body remained limp meat, my mind soared at the sparks he brought into me. “Here!” someone sang very close, and all stopped for a few beats while she lifted her dress to show the serpent that ran, red and puffy from the recent needles, up her ankle to tickle her crotch with a brilliantly forked tongue.

“I got a new ring.”

When we’d made love at the last party I had almost been consumed by her. Ignited, our kisses had turned our tongues into tongues of flames. Sexual? Damned straight, but Dorothy’s hunger was almost scary, almost scalding. Our kisses seemed to last from foreplay, into sex, and into a still-warm after glow. Never did oral sex with my lover, Dorothy; couldn’t take our lips apart long enough to try.

Black like soot, not the kind of polished black some have. Her was a skin that looked like night rolled into breasts, belly, back and smile. Her lips -- how can I describe her lips enough? I can’t. You have to come all the way out to San Francisco and taste them. Words ... just ... will ... not .. work.

We kissed through the call of “Over here”: the young, slender reed of a man baring his chest to show his new nipple ring. We would have kissed even longer save for Dorothy’s insistence that we play “this game” a little more, first.

“I’m HIV positive.”

I knew Jerry. Knew him well. Friend, pal, something else -- very special. He mirrored me: long and lean, tapered and elegant. While mine was black, though, his was dirty blond. Look at pieces of Jerry and you would think him just another punk -- but I knew him from long nights of bad movies, tears (both of us) and many, many smiles.

Jerry’s lips were slightly scabbed from cruising downtown on his board, of biting them when he was nervous. His tongue was hard and strong, a vibrant touch that shivered me down to my bare toes.

“I am,” Jerry said, and I kissed him long and hard again.

The game lasted for a while more, before dropping away with the few remaining clothes. The toys game out: leather, latex, condoms, Saran Wrap ... the tools of our friendships. We played and kissed many times thereafter.

I could only wish that Jerry could have kissed me much, much longer.

Saturday, October 10, 2009

Sage Vivant's Intro To Licks & Promises

Here's a special treat: Sage Vivant's intro to my new collection of erotica, Licks & Promises (from Phaze Books). It's no secret that I adore Sage, but this intro touched me tremendously.
WARNING: The stories in this book may make you cry. There. I’ve said it. I know that’s not the best way to introduce an erotica story collection, but I can rarely read an M. Christian story without some kind of visceral reaction. So, I just wanted you to know up front that if you can get through this book without developing a lump in your throat or wiping tears from your cheeks, I honestly have to question your humanity.

Christian knows that sex is not purely about bodies, desire, and sex toys. He goes deeper, much deeper, dispensing with the puerile, predictable situations so common in erotic literature these days. He entreats his readers not to settle for the obvious clichés and the usual storylines where two (or more) people end up with their clothes off. Instead, he forces readers to consider the behaviors and thought processes that got those people naked in the first place — because that’s what the story is really about. The trembling, sweating, engorged body parts are just a bonus.

In the process of taking you on an emotional journey, however, Christian leaves you plenty hot and bothered. The man seems to instinctively know the perfect spot in his narrative for a well-placed nipple. He recognizes when a wet pussy needs filled and when it’s better to have it ache. He sends your libido careening on a roller-coaster ride that he alone controls. You’ve never been so grateful to be in such skilled hands, even as the landscape blurs by at lightning speed.

Along with intelligence and maturity, empathy abounds in these stories. Even when the characters make mistakes, stumble through circumstances, and generally screw up, Christian manages to show us their vulnerable side. He is not content to point out only how nasty or foolish people can be — he wants us to understand their motivations, learn what it feels like to trust or have trust revoked. He will show us where someone hurts and how sex healed the hurt. Or caused it.

In Christian’s world, lust is the springboard to passion, not a synonym for it.

The richness of language, the complexity of emotions, and the mysterious role of sex characterize M. Christian’s remarkable erotica. They celebrate life and castigate it at the same time. They explore disappointment and erupt with joy when you least expect it.

I defy you to get through this volume without shedding an appreciative tear, even if you’re touching yourself as you do it.

Sunday, October 04, 2009

Ashley Lister Likes Licks & Promises

This is very great: Ashley Lister's review of Licks & Promises, from the always-great Erotica Readers & Writers site:

It’s not an understatement to say that M Christian has a well-deserved reputation for excellence. He is the author of more than 300 short stories, the editor of 20 anthologies, four collections of his own short fiction and the author of four (or five) novels. (There is, as yet, no official confirmation as to whether he is the M Christian behind ME2). M Christian’s Confessions of a Literary Streetwalker column is one of the most popular parts of ERWA and this is probably because he speaks with authority about erotica as an author who knows his craft.

However, for anyone needing proof that Christian knows what he’s talking about, they need look no further than Licks & Promises. Licks & Promises is a collection of Christian’s scintillating erotic stories, published by Phaze books, and the contents will not leave the reader dissatisfied.

Sage Vivant provides an Introduction to this collection, relating her appreciation of Christian’s work and acknowledging the breadth of his skill. As Vivant explains:

Christian knows that sex is not purely about bodies, desire, and sex toys. He goes deeper, much deeper, dispensing with the puerile, predictable situations so common in erotic literature these days. He entreats his readers not to settle for the obvious clich├ęs and the usual storylines where two (or more) people end up with their clothes off. Instead, he forces readers to consider the behaviors and thought processes that got those people naked in the first place — because that’s what the story is really about. The trembling, sweating, engorged body parts are just a bonus.

My favourite story in this collection comes early in the book. ‘Dead Letter’ is a tale about an author, which is probably why I enjoyed it so much. Filled with humour, irony and a richness of character, ‘Dead Letter’ introduces us to the story’s protagonist/writer through the eyes of his bored-but-besotted wife. The complexity of their relationship is vividly relayed, without hampering the pace of the story. The humour is sharply observed, only a little cruel, and tinged with empathy for the human condition. The denouement is as clever as it is moving. The following passage illustrates the depth of character, detail and humour.

Helen of Troy — diaphanous, luminous, and ethereal — glided into the room and banged her shin on the coffee table.

Dammit! She bit her lip so as not to put speech to it. Hopping, balancing with a hand tightly around an ornately carved bedpost, she vigorously rubbed her barked ankle.

“W-what —?” came Randolph’s sluggish voice from a point somewhere below a mountain range of goose-down pillows.
Crap! Both feet down, ankle clearly more painful than damaged, she smoothed her sheet, adjusted her dime-store tiara, took a deep breath, and crooned out a melodious “Oooooooooooo!” Then she whispered down low near her husband’s ear, “From the great beyond, I have come!”

“W-who is there? Who is it?”
The lights in the room were dim, so much so that everything seemed washed with a brush dipped in inky shade and shadow. The bed was a pale rectangle, the pile of pillows a gray smudge, her husband’s face a pale mask haloed by silver hair — and that damned coffee table completely invisible.

There are lots to be enjoyed in this collection. The quality of the writing is outstanding and the depth of characterisation is enormous. For any serious aficionado of erotic fiction, Licks & Promises is a necessity for the bedside bookshelf.
Ashley Lister
September 2009

Saturday, August 08, 2009

LICKS & PROMISES - Out Now From M.Christian

Phaze Books is proud to announce the publication of a brand new collection of M.Christian's erotic fiction:



Licks & Promises is a new erotic short story collection from a master of the genre. If you like your sexy stories sweet, silly, scary or simply outrageous, this is the book for you!

Featuring classic M.Christian stories plus some tales that have never been seen before - as well as an introduction by the wonderful Sage Vivant - this is an erotica collection you'll read, re-read, and remember for a very long time!

Featuring the stories -
The Train They Call the City of New Orleans
Dead Letter
Dust
The House of the Rising Sun
In Control
Kiss, Kiss, Hug, Hug
Mile After Mile
The Naked Supper
Nighthawks
Regrets
The Tinkling of Tiny Silver Bells
Water of Life
The Will of Dr. Mabuse
The Waters of Biscayne Bay
The World Game
One After Another
Her First Thursday Evening
Here's what people are saying about M.Christian:
Reading M. Christian is like climbing on for a sexual magic carpet ride through different times and places, diverse bodies, and infinite possibilities.
- Carol Queen, Sex writer, speaker, educator and activist

M. Christian is the chameleon of modern erotica. One day punk, another romantic; one day straight, another totally perverse and polyamorous. But always sexy and gripping
- Maxim Jakubowksi, Editor, Mammoth Book of Erotica series

M. Christian is a literary stylist of the highest caliber: smart, funny, frightening, sexy -- there's nothing he can't write about ... and brilliantly.
- Tristan Taormino, Sex educator, author, columnist

M. Christian speaks with a totally unique and truly fascinating voice. There are a lot of writers out there who'd better protect their markets -- M. Christian has arrived!
- Mike Resnick, Hugo and Nebula Award winning science fiction author

M. Christian's stories squat at the intersection of Primal Urges Avenue and Hi-Tech Parkway like a feral-eyed, half-naked Karen Black leering and stabbing her fractal machete into the tarmac. Portraying a world where erotic life has spilled from the bedroom into the street, and been shattered into a million sharp shards, these tales undercut and mutate the old verities concerning memory, desire and loyalty. Truly an author for our post-everything 21st century.
- Paul Di Filippo, author of The Steampunk Trilogy

With his amazing versatility and silky smooth prose, M. Christian helped forge the erotica revolution of the 1990s and he’s still going strong
- Donna George Storey, author of An Amorous Woman
Order A Copy Today:
Phaze Books
Paperback: $11.95
Kindle: $4.80
Fictionwise: $5.40
ISBN-978-1606591840
If you're interested in reviewing Licks & Promises please email M.Christian:

zobop@aol.com
mchristianzobop@gmail.com

Sunday, June 14, 2009

Zander Vyne Likes Licks & Promiese

Here's a great -- and very touching -- review of my new erotic collection, Licks & Promises, from the wonderful Zander Vyne. Thanks, Zander!


Sometimes a book lands in your hands like a gift, one that keeps you up all night reading, sighing with both contentment and sadness when it’s over.

M. Christian’s newest short fiction collection, Licks And Promises, is like that. A master of erotica writing, he certainly doesn’t need another glowing review of his work, but I am going to give him one anyway—that’s how good these stories are. There is something for everyone represented here.

Dust explores regret, in only seven pages, with a depth that some novelists would need a whole book to accomplish. The richly drawn inner landscape of the main character, combined with the realness of her emotions is breathtaking. Yes, he works in a hot sex scene, but somehow that’s OK. Who hasn’t fucked someone in order to heal themselves, and apologize for something you cannot, or will not, talk about?

The Train They Call The City of New Orleans is as dripping with character as its namesake. The woman in the story is only along for the ride, and what a ride it is. The language is stunning and poetic.

In Control comes off like a kinky little fetish piece and hits that mark with precision, but underlying it is M. Christians quirky sense of humor, and knack for shining a bright light on what’s truly making these people tick. He has the balls to slyly ask what I’ve always wanted to about D/s, but does so with no judgment, no attitude. He leaves recognition of the question, and the answer, up to his reader.

The Naked Supper is pure food porn—a buffet of poetic erotica and self-love, just not in the way you might expect. Nothing M. Christian writes is predictable.

Nighthawks could be a story about the painting of the same name, but to me it was a story of missed chances, people who pass in the night. I like that about his work too—like good art, the reader often can interpret it in a way that resonates with them. It’s almost like having a writer create something just for you.

Regrets is laugh-out-loud funny.

The Waters of Biscayne Bay will tug at your heart and make you want to hug the one you love the most.

Lick And Promises has eighteen stories and each shows why M. Christian really is a master on top of his craft. Yes, he writes about sex, but these are real people, with real problems, and real feelings. They are not picture-perfect, porno people getting it on to make us horny (though you will be turned on, I promise).

If you want to read about more than body parts hooking up, and are interested in finding out just what got all these people fucking in the first place (because we all know that what’s lurking inside of us is just as important as all the action going on outside) this is the book for you.

Monday, May 11, 2009

Pauline Likes Licks & Promises

I'm very touched - actually very, very, very, very touched - that my friend Pauline liked my new collection, Licks & Promises .. and even wrote a wonderful review of it. Thanks, sweetie!

I’ve just finished reading M.Christian’s superb collection of stories, LICKS AND PROMISES, and I’m trying to catch my breath. Such a fascinating display of twists and turns, demonstrating the themes of desire, lust, disappointment, betrayal, death and more.

There’s humour here too, in the brilliant “Regrets.” Who says Americans don’t do irony? Well, the Brits mostly, and I am one. But Christian shows that up for the silly concept that it is, in this wonderfully, intelligent piece of satire.

And there are tears in “The Waters of Biscayne Bay.” Grief and anger for a lost love and the fulfilment of a lover’s last wishes.

Christian gives us an innovative look into Edward Hopper’s great painting; NIGHTHAWKS, in his story of the same name. He teaches us, how to read a painting. Who is the woman with the red hair, in the red dress? Is the man sitting next to her partner, or are they two strangers desiring each other? Both, are lost in their thoughts. Christian subtly weaves a story around Hopper’s haunting painting. He walks us around this enigmatic couple, and we ponder about what might, or might not be going on.

There’s a lament in “The Waters of life" and a sense of loss as Christian reveals that the loved and revered art work is not what it seems. The loved one is not what he seemed, and we taste the bitter flavour of disappointment.

In “The House of the Rising Sun," a woman learns to love, and live again, after a betrayal, and in the wonderful “In Control,” just who is in control? The self important dom, who’s too mean to pay more than $50 for a sex toy, or the canny sub, who takes her pleasure, and leaves?

There’s a twist at the end of, “Her First Thursday Evening." A guy edits, and changes his lover’s first disastrous sexual experience, into one that is beautiful. But he can’t rewrite his own story; he wishes he could.

Through this wonderful collection, M.Christian shows the skill and diversity of a unique writer. He creates solid, fully rounded characters. He tells us stories that are enticing, he draws us in. He makes us laugh; very often he makes us cry. Christian loves language and words. Never, never dull, he encourages the reader to identify with and empathise with, his skilfully drawn characters. He brings us back to the simplicity of reading great stories, that stay with us long after we have closed the book.

Sunday, May 03, 2009

The Romance Studio Likes Licks & Promises


As some of you folks might know, I have a brand new collection of my 'straight' erotica coming out very soon from the fantastic folks at Phaze Books, as both a print as well as an ebook, called Licks & Promises.

I'm happy to say that, thanks to my pal Lisabet Sarai, I just got an early review from The Romance Studio:
Licks and Promises takes the reader across the country and back in a series of erotic vignettes about love in its many aspects. In House of the Rising Sun, Amina finds both a reason to live and a new kind of lover. Dust observes a couple’s lovemaking in the midst of crisis against the background of a desert pool, and In Control questions who is really in charge in a sub/dom interaction.

These three are just a sampling of the nineteen stories in this collection. This was my first M. Christian book and I will definitely read more. The depth of sensuality in each story, the attention to each sense, sight, sound, taste, takes the reader right into the room with the characters. His imagery is simply breathtaking.

Although the stories are brief, they are very complete, each is worth liking on its own. Jasmine the sexually active disembodied hippie in The Tinkling of Tiny Silver Bells, Randolph and Juliet, the devoted roleplaying couple in Dead letter, the fat man in The Naked Supper, each a fully developed person with a different, and usually intriguing, way of achieving satisfaction.

I recommend this book to anyone who likes a sexy story with substance. Particularly if you don’t mind a little laughing and crying while reading a great book.

Wednesday, February 04, 2009

Licks & Promises - A Taste!


Here's a little pre-release sampling of Licks & Promises, coming soon from Phaze Books:
Licks & Promises is a new erotic short story collection by a master of the genre. If you like your sexy stories sweet, silly, scary or simply outrageous, this is the book for you! Featuring classic M.Christian stories plus some tales that have never been seen before. This is one book you'll read, re-read, and remember for a very long time.
M.Christian is an acknowledged master of erotica with more than 300 stories in such anthologies as Best American Erotica, Best Gay Erotica, Best Lesbian Erotica, Best Bisexual Erotica, Best Fetish Erotica, and many, many other anthologies, magazines, and Web sites. He is the editor of 20 anthologies including the Best S/M Erotica series, The Burning Pen, Guilty Pleasures, and others. He is the author of the collections Dirty Words, Speaking Parts, The Bachelor Machine, and Filthy; and the novels Running Dry, The Very Bloody Marys, Me2, Brushes, and Painted Doll. He can be found at http://zobop.blogspot.com/.

EXCERPT FOLLOWS

M. Christian's "The Train They Call the City of New Orleans" from Licks and Promises

Someone bumped into her elbow, jogging her memory. With a sharp shock, she straightened.

“Sorry,” said a heavy voice from above. His smile was bright, beaming as it was tossed back at her from over his right shoulder. Her artist’s eyes picked him apart: the dull reds of his wool shirt, the aqua and white of his worn jeans, the terra-cotta of his comfortable leather boots, the marbling of his black and white peppered curly hair and beard. The smile stayed a bit too long, a touch stretched out as he took a seat three rows ahead of her.

That damned place, she thought, that awful place. Iron balconies and brick, a turgid river moving with eternal purpose, shanty-shacks and mansions, crawfish and red peppers, too-sweet drinks and strong shots, an atmosphere of vomit and magnolia blossoms. She’d begun there as if it was just the same as the Pacific Northwest, just warmer, with more colors -- but then it had started. Slowly, as said, insidious. Laying awake on a hot night, fanning herself with a magazine, body bare for a simple cotton dress. Thoughts had emerged, and she’d found herself pacing -- at first in her mind and then with her feet, like a trapped jungle cat.

She’d had lovers before, of course, but they’d been intellectual, artistic interludes -- executed with caution. They had either faded way, leaving nothing but memories, or had broken apart with only a few tears. But after she’d started renting that little place, the high-ceilinged loft near the river, she’d begun to crave, to hunger, in a way that was unfamiliar. Maggie had eaten before, but now she wanted to hunt and feast.

On the train, leaving that hot and humid city, she looked at the back of his head, recapturing for herself the breath of his shoulders, the tightness of his stride, the strength of his legs, the firm muscles of his back and ass. It was too easy to picture him, standing on the rough boards of her studio floor, clothes piled into a far corner. Standing firm and large before her. She saw her hands as holding a bit of charcoal, capturing the flow of him, the planes and curves of his broad, firm body on a sketchpad.

It had been that place. It had hexed her, seeped into her open pores, worked its way into her. All that light, heat, spices, had done something to her. It had started burning her, making her smoke and steam.

She started masturbating. Casually at first, but then with a passion for herself that no lover had ever shown. It became an act of love, a thought-out and anticipated event. She’d spend the sweltering days thinking of a fantasy, constructing in her vivid imagination the location, feel, the color of his eyes, the sound of his voice, the words he’d speak, the feelings that would come to her. She’d sketch him, capturing him on a few scraps of paper: his face, his chest, his arms, his legs, his penis -- both hard and soft. Then, prepared and burning even hotter as the sun set on the filigreed rooftops, she’d stretch out on her cheap little bed, pull up her simple cotton dress, and tangle her fingers, at first, in the curls of her pubic hairs, and then with a few deft strokes, part her lips and relish in the humid excitement of her cunt. Her other hand would be reserved for her tight nipples, the right when she wanted the familiarity of her favorite breast, the left for when she imagined his mouth, hand, there. It would go on for hours, and then even longer as the reds and yellows of her pallet, of the city, had started to really penetrate her skin.

Sunday, September 21, 2008

Licks & Promises - Coming Soon!

Here's an early look at Wynn Ryder's fantastic cover to my new collection of erotic short stories, Licks & Promises, coming from Phaze Books.