I'm so excited to host an except from Charlotte Stein's wonderful book, Telling Tales. This is the stuff dirty, filthy dreams are made of. How can you figure out if what you wanted then, is really what you want now? Are you older and wiser now? Can you see what's been right in front of you all along? Or do you stay stuck in the past and settle for a smidgen of good enough? In the world of Telling Tales, these questions involve a whole lot of sex.Here we have Allie trying to figure out what she feels when she witnesses her college crush having sex with her best friend. It's gritty, emotional, and so full of shameful excitement, how can you pass up the opportunity to read the rest?! Check out the excerpt and then follow the links at the bottom of the post to buy the book. Don't leave Allie just hanging there in your mind!
" God, I hate that he’s the object of my hopes and dreams. I hate Kitty for one bright, burning, selfish second, because she’s brave and I’m not, and she’s lovely and I’m not, and she doesn’t have to be a eunuch for the rest of her life, and I somehow do.
And then I get to the door with my mind this boiling cauldron of stupid ideas—-like how I’m going to barge in and accuse Wade of cheating on a girlfriend he doesn’t actually have, or accuse Kitty of betraying a friend over something she doesn’t even know about, or have some kind of ridiculous meltdown where I say words that aren’t even really English, just the blind tumbling result of my stupid heartache—-and I just can’t do any of it. I can see them through the crack in the door, and I have to simply stand there and watch my hero twisting into some pretty incredible shapes with a person who is not me.
I have to watch him lift both of her legs over his shoulders until she’s almost bent double on the bed, and then pound into her as though sex is going to disappear tomorrow. Whoever invented fucking is going to revoke everybody’s license, and from then on we have to spend our days shaking hands or violently waving.
I wish I’d done more than that in the short window of sex we all had. For one far too long and not--quite--agonizing second, I find myself gazing at them with my mouth actually open. Heartache falls by the wayside in the face of this, because by God I’ve never seen a man flip a woman like that. He just gets hold of her hips and somehow she’s on her front, even though I’m sure such a move should have dislocated her hip.
Of course, I’ve seen things like this in porn. I’m aware that most people have more athletic sex than I’ve ever had. But even so, it’s different when it’s close up. It’s different when it’s only inches away from me, and I can see the look on Kitty’s face when she turns it to one side and bites at her own arm.
She looks like someone who realizes there’s going to be no more sex tomorrow. She looks desperate and blissed out and she’s making this noise—-this ah ah ah noise—-that I can hardly stand to hear. It forces unwanted feelings through my body, and I know they’re there because I just have to squeeze my legs together against them.God, what must it be like to feel that way? To have someone pounding into you over and over again, so hard I can see her little cupcake breasts bouncing beneath the curve of her body, and when I dare to flick my attention to Wade I can make out every muscle in his tensing stomach, all ab--tacular and hard as anything and fuck, fuck.
This is too much. Did he look this way, before? He had a good, strong swimmer’s body, I know that much. But I can’t recall him being so hairy or having those ropey, muscular arms or those actual high, firm pecs. He looks so rippling, so hard--bodied—-though I suppose the overall effect is added to by the sheen of sweat all over him. It’s as though he slid out of the pages of Men’s Health only five seconds earlier, and I’m not ashamed to admit I can’t take my eyes off it.
Though maybe it’s partly because I don’t want to look at the two most obvious eye--magnets: his cock, and his face. If I look at his cock or his face, I swear I’ll die. He’s saying some pretty dirty things—-Take it, take it, you little slut, among others—-and that’s enough all on its own. It’s enough to make me press my legs together tighter, tighter, and I can feel I’m sweating through my pajamas, I know I am, I know any second I’m going to touch myself like the guy in Wade’s story.
And then I look up at his face—-just as Kitty says something disgusting like Ohhhh yeah, fuck my slick cunt—-and of course he’s staring right at me. Of course he is. He’s staring right at me as he fucks her, this look on his face like something the Devil would do on realizing he’s corrupted another innocent soul, and I back right up in a hurry until I crack my shoulder blades against the wall.
I realize I’m breathing hard. Probably hard enough for Kitty to hear, if she takes a second in between ordering him to Fuck her pussy harder, goddammit. I almost laugh hearing my little pixie girl being such a bossy--boots in bed, but then my mind flashes on Wade’s grinning, mischief--lit face again and I’m too shocked to get the sound out. I think I’ll be too shocked to make a sound tomorrow, actually. In fact, I think I’m too shocked to ever make another sound from now until the end of time, because God I don’t know how I feel about any of this.
I can’t even find bitterness, anymore, which seems very odd indeed. Instead I just seem all juiced up with too much sex, and when I try to walk back toward my room all I can manage is a kind of vague slide along the wall.
Of course it’s only once I’m tucked back in my bed, staring at the ceiling like a ghost of myself, that I actually dare to admit what I wasn’t sure I’d seen before. "Pretty awesome, right? So, if you haven't purchased this book yet, here are the links for Amazon and B&N. Both places have very reasonable prices. If you've already read the book, it would be wonderful to rate it and/or review it on goodreads.
And thank you to the people at Sourcebooks for letting me host the excerpt. It's my first time and one of the most exciting things ever.
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