Crossdressing: Erotic Stories just got its first mainstream (as in, nonerotica-specific) review, at Blogcritics, and they didn’t really like it much:
The book opens with “Temporary,” a tale of a M2F transsexual who seduces a straight male dishwasher. Every time it starts to get sexy, some hideous cliche ruins the mood. I think author Tulsa Brown is the only person outside a trashy Harlequin romance to still use “meat” as a euphemism for penis.
Most of the stories are told first person, which, quite frankly, grows tiresome. In a collection that is about gender bending, it is often hard to tell if the narrator is male, female, or someone in between. The stories all feel too awkwardly personal. It is like reading a collection of coming out of the closet stories.
Some of the good: “A Cute Idea” by collection editor Rachel Kramer Bussel is easily the best in the collection. It is a playful and sexy tale of a woman dressing her boyfriend in her sexiest see-through panties. “I Need a Man” is a short, very hot tale of a girl dressing up like a man for her girlfriend.
As for my take, obviously I liked the stories, ’cause I published them, but more specifically, I LOVE the fact that these stories are so personal. Speaking of which, I can’t wait to get the video up of me reading Ryan Field’s “Down the Basement” – so, so hot!
For now, if you haven’t read the book, here are excerpts from Andrea Dale’s “I Need a Man” followed by Ryan Field’s “Down the Basement” – Enjoy!
Kim had done a great job, I had to say, right down to using a men’s aftershave rather that her usual perfume. But when we went cheek-to-cheek on the dance floor, I caught the underlying scent that was so very her.
My nipples hardened under my ripped Mötley Crüe T-shirt. I hadn’t figured it out, but Kim had put it all together and dug out my ultimate fantasy. I didn’t want a boy, not really. I wanted to pretend I was with a pretty boy.
The fact that it was someone I loved made it even better.
Then she flexed her hips, and I felt her other surprise pressing against my mound.
“Well, hel-lo,” I said.
She laughed and nipped my earlobe. “Special present, just for you,” she whispered. She slid her hands around my hips and pulled me close, grinding the fake erection against me.
The room spun. Or maybe it was just me, spinning on the heady lust of being in the arms of my girlfriend, who’d dressed like a man to tap into my darkest dreams, a fake cock nudging against my crotch. The promise of sex later or, if we weren’t careful, some serious pleasure right here on the dance floor, in front of everyone.
You can’t wear panties under spandex. Not even a thong. So the fact was, I knew immediately just how wet I was getting, and given a little more time, when we pulled apart, the rest of the bar would know, too.
“Come home with me?” Kim growled in my ear, still in persona. She punctuated the words with a series of thrusts, and if the question had taken longer, I would’ve climaxed right there.
“I’ll follow you,” I said.
Because at that moment, I would’ve followed her anywhere…
From the super-hot “Down the Basement,” in which a gay man dressed in drag on Halloween finds himself in a basement with four frat boys:
The one who wanted me on his lap, the leader of the pack, stood and walked over to a bookcase where there was a large television and one of those small Bose radios. He turned on the radio and turned up the volume, and Mary K. Blige began to sing. “Let’s dance,” he said, grabbing my hand and pulling me off the sofa.
The other three, still passing the joint around, howled, “Go man, yeah, look at her move.”
I fell into his strapping body and placed my arms around his wide shoulders. He pulled me closer, and then put his rough hands under my dress and lifted it all the way up to my waist so the other guys could see him petting my bare ass. We began to dance very slowly; I arched my back and invited him to play with my ass cheeks while I rubbed the back of his thick neck. His breath smelled like pot and beer; I slowly licked the stubble below his ear, and he moaned. One of the guys on the sofa, a tall, lanky dude with huge hands, stood and staggered up behind me. He put his hands around my waist, shoved his crotch against my ass and began to slowly hump his erection banging against the crack of my ass. I reached down with my right hand and began to massage the one in front; an erection so hard and thick I felt it pulse through the fabric of his football pants. He leaned forward and stuck his tongue in my mouth while the one behind me reached down and began to gently squeeze my ass.
I knew I had to change course; the next drunken move would be to reach between my legs for a pussy that wasn’t there. So I untangled myself from the sandwich and said, “Okay, boys, everyone on the sofa.”
They were eager to please; the joint was finished, and they were all too wasted to remember anything by that point. The leader, who’d brought me down there in the first place, sat off to the side at the edge of the sofa and watched; the other three sat next to each other. I slowly went down on my knees and began to unlace the football pants of the one who had been behind me dancing. I pulled his pants down to his knees; a nine-inch erection popped out because he wasn’t wearing underwear…
Read the rest in Crossdressing: Erotic Stories!