Exhibitionism, voyeurism and humiliation are recurring themes in this collection of exhilarating, and often startling, erotic shorts. There’s a fearlessness, frankness and honest-to-god love of sex that grabbed me in each of the eight stories. I’ll confess to some envy, too, the way the author was able to tap into her imagination. Yeah, I have erotic daydreams, but nothing like this. And, it’s important to note, her skills as a writer mean there are no distractions all too common in a lot of erotica: sloppy punctuation and formatting, lousy dialog and awful writing that takes you out of the story. This is solid, professional writing.
The author slams right into it with her opening story, Four on the Floor, where a woman is sexually humiliated and fucked on a balcony by her furious boyfriend. Sound abusive? Not at all. She goads him on, whipped up in a sexual froth as he rips off her clothes, slaps her ass, probes her pussy and takes her as bystanders watch. Her crime? She sucked off one of his co-workers and threw it in his face. She’s bad—and she enjoys it immensely. I won’t ruin the ending, but Brundage’s writing is graphic, hot and unflinching. This is a story of public sex and humiliation at its most erotic. It got me extremely hot and bothered–and fantasizing a fast, brutal fuck, some brute clutching my hair while he drills me from behind on the balcony of a hotel. Haven’t done it (yet), but isn’t that what erotica is supposed to do?
That’s just the start. In the next stories, Brundage explores threesomes (more exhibitionism and MM experimentation), first-time lesbian fun, ass play (with ice), and harness and nipple play (to spice up a marriage). The stories twist and turn; I never knew where she was going. Maybe she didn’t, either.
She closes with The Private Retirement of Miss Pamela Boyshorts, a fantasy of a stripper with a fanatical following (it’s her incredible ass, those shorts and both erotic and star appeal) who then goes to Hollywood, where things don’t quite work out. The author, it would appear, knows a thing or two about the film industry, which gives the story unexpected authority. But it’s not a story about Tinseltown, it’s about something dredged deep out of Brundage’s imagination.
This is the best erotica I’ve read this year. I want to read more by Valerie Brundage.