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“Who has the nerve to write a series of books under the nomenclature of Good Pussy Bad Pussy?  Well, I’m lucky to know a woman named Amy Aimee who has the nerve.  And not only does she have the nerve she has the talent, too.  I have a relationship with Amy Aimee.  It’s one of those cyber relationships.  She’s an American living in Europe.   She found me.  She found this blog.  We communicate by email.  Sometimes the emails get pretty hot, but we also talk about business: writing, publishing and blogging.  In other words we talk about sex and life and the struggle of being a writer.

She’s written two books of fiction.  I have both of them.  Her work is featured here on the PittsburghFlash.  She has her own category.  Just scan down the sidebar to Categories and her work is under Good Pussy Bad Pussy.  I love her fiction.  The two books are a woman’s view of sex in a patriarchal society.  I love her talent and her ability to write narratives, two novels so far, that not only hold your attention but are exciting and insightful in presenting a woman’s view of sex and the character of men in general.  Men, she’s got us nailed.

Amy allows her protagonist Rachel to do what most women only fantasize about doing: releasing their inner goddesses which lead to repeated sexual frenzy and orgasm.  Bless you, Amy.  We men need this information.  To you, Amy.  A pat on the butt and a kiss on the lips.”   by Guy Hogan, editor of the Pittsburgh Flash Fiction Gazette

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By some wild, crazy, roundabout path, Albert had guided Rachel to a place where nothing but total surrender was possible.

She was no longer Rachel Somers with an identity to protect or preserve. He had freed her, as lovingly and as carefully as any man could, of whatever it was she thought she was. He had stripped her bare. Left her with nothing she could identify with, and in that strange, naked state of being no woman she knew, she found herself connected to a sexuality so powerful that it jolted her beyond her everyday reality into some awesome cosmic plane she did not recognize.

“This is not me,” she thought and tingled all over with pleasure. “This is not anyone.” And that was when he plunged headlong, headstrong, into her, finding in her a depth she did not know she possessed.

So she spread her legs wide, baring her soul and allowing him entry everywhere – allowing him anything, everything. And then, when he raised himself up above her, supporting himself with his powerful arms, looking down at her with an intensity only he possessed – she knew she would love him always.

Always.

Then for one short moment, the real Rachel Somers, the woman inside the woman inside the woman inside this body she was inhabiting, sighed softly and laughed. And though no one else in the entire universe heard her, she did. And she knew she had found a place and a peace and a platform which belonged to her alone.

And there she stood, perfectly poised. Perched, before that formidable plunge into the cosmic void when all the Light hit her.

“Oh Albert,” she heard herself whispering softly to herself, “you are the most strange and wondrous man I have ever known.” And the echo came back immediately from somewhere deep inside her, “And I am the most strange and wondrous woman I have ever known.” And it was true, so true.

Then, right before she let go and jumped, heart first and ecstatic, into the nothingness before her, she knew, once and for all, now and forever – that no matter what happened, nothing in life could ever separate her from Albert. Ever. Nothing. Not even separation itself.

So she closed her eyes and let the passion – his passion and hers – and the passion of living and  loving and of being alive all wrapped in one – finally carry her over the edge.

And as she flew fast, hurtling through space towards her Infinite Self, she cried out, delirious and joyful as the beloved sacrificial lamb does when suddenly it is released from the agony of the limitations of this earthly existence…

And as she disappeared into the Light, her heart sang and she gave thanks…

_____

About Rachel and Albert from the “Good Pussy Bad Pussy” books.

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Here’s a fun post about Good Pussy Bad Pussy and Rachel’s many orgasms and writer’s block by my friend Guy Hogan. Guy is the publisher of the hot, online girlie magazine, Pittsburgh Flash Fiction Gazette which features “sex as art and entertainment”. You can check out his site which is dedicated to the glory of women and their wonderful bodies (& much, much more) here: http://pittsburghflashfictiongazette.net/

So here’s what Guy wrote on September 11, 2015:

“Hello, hello, hello, all you readers and writers and rock ‘n’ rollers and lovers of erotica who live all over the world!  Welcome to today’s edition of the Pittsburgh Flash Fiction Gazette.  If you are a regular visitor of my little girlie magazine, you know all about Amy Aimee and her protagonist Rachel who is so orgasmic she has orgasm after orgasm even when she finds herself in terrible situations where she shouldn’t have orgasms.  You know, good pussy bad pussy.  The woman has little control over her pussy.  But Amy’s work is about a lot more than just sex.  It’s really about life and relationships and the oh so dangerous world we all live in.  I mean so much of her work comes straight from the headlines of every news outlet, especially book 2.  I’m reading it now.

But I digress…

I feature Amy’s work on the front page of my little girlie magazine.  She has her own category here at The Gazette.  And we email each other several times a week.  We like each other and we support each other.  And recently she’s been supporting me, helping me to survive my writer’s block.

Here is part of the email she sent me today.  I can’t share with you the entire email, because that would be kissing and telling (we do get a little intimate).  Her advice about surviving writer’s block is the best advice I’ve ever heard or read about getting through writer’s block.

Rock on, my brothers and sisters!

*****

Dear Guy,

Thanks for the update. It sounds like you are doing well.

I have a different idea about the experience you call “writer’s block”. I think people (you and everyone else) only experience what you call “writer’s block” because you are trying to force or trying too hard to write. My experience is that inspiration “comes” to me when I am open and waiting (very sexual actually)… It’s kind of like trying to force an orgasm – that never works. But if you’re open and going with the flow – in other words – allowing and being present in the moment… well then wham bam…. there it is! The wonderful inspiration comes and is just there!

You can quote me on this if you want – it might make a lovely post…

*****

Yes, my dear, it does make a lovely post.  And the following interview I did with you several months ago makes for an even better post.

*****

Here is Guy’s interview:

I WRITE EROTICA: AMY AIMEE

Guy Hogan: A. Aimee, let me congratulate you on the publication of Good Pussy Bad Pussy.  I haven’t read an erotic novel in years and I was lucky to read yours.  Tell us a little about yourself.

A Aimee: I wanted to be beautiful and then I realized beauty is in the eye of the beholder and then I wanted to be good and then I realized goodness was in the eye of the beholder. When I realized this I decided to please me instead since I found out that pleasing others is a hopeless task! And writing “Good Pussy Bad Pussy – Rachel’s Tale” was one of the ways in which I pleased myself.

I also wrote “Good Pussy Bad Pussy” because I wanted to explore and write about a woman who allowed herself to go beyond what is normally acceptable for married women and who discovered and experienced amazing orgasmic release in ways which both shocked and surprised her. Plus I wanted to write about a woman who wasn’t so hung up as most women are today with the ownership of a partner. So even if my heroine Rachel is often confused, insecure and conflicted, she is also more free and open then most women are today – and I wanted to see where this would take her. Especially when you think about how limited and locked down in terms of our sexuality most people in couple relationships are today. Which makes it very difficult for us to find the ecstatic, orgasmic release we are all yearning for…

Guy Hogan: Did you start out writing erotica?

A Aimee: I’ve written many books – both fiction and non-fiction.

Guy Hogan: There is a lot of explicit sex in Good Pussy Bad Pussy.  Do your friends and family know that you write XXX-rated fiction?  And if they do, what is their reaction?

A Aimee: It’s really interesting to notice how most people frame the work we’re doing. They call it “erotica” or “porn” or “xxx-rated fiction” and well I didn’t think of any of these things when I was writing “Good Pussy Bad Pussy”. Isn’t that interesting? I didn’t have any of these labels in my head. I just wrote a book about a woman exploring her sexuality, feeling that our sexuality is just a normal part of our lives. So I didn’t put it in a special category. And when you think about it, not only is sex completely normal, sex and our sexuality is probably the strongest human drive of all. So as far as I’m concerned, the real question is – how come we separate sex like we do from the rest of our lives? And why are there so many taboos around something that is so wonderful, joyful, amazing and fun as sex is? As I say in my “Good Pussy Bad Pussy” books (yes I just finished “Good Pussy Bad Pussy book 2”): Nothing satisfies like sex. Nothing completes like sex. Nothing releases like sex. Nothing can compete with sex.

As for my family. My parents are dead and so is my ex-husband, so I figure they don’t have a problem with my book since they left their physical bodies behind when they crossed over to the other side! And without physical bodies, I doubt if sex is an “issue” for them anymore! As for my 3 sons – well one of them designed the cover of the book and the other 2… well that’s their problem!

Guy Hogan: Your novel is about a lot more than just explicit sex.  It’s a great story about a woman on a journey of self discovery.  Tell us a little about Rachel, your protagonist.

A Aimee: Yes my heroine, Rachel, is just as confused and “fucked up” as the rest of us are – maybe the only difference is she actually does the stuff that many of us are just thinking about doing in our heads! So she actually lets herself go and it surprises and shocks her. And not only that, she then gets to experience the many unexpected consequences of her choices and what that leads to…

Guy Hogan: Do you watch porn?  And if you do, what kind of porn do you like to watch?

A Aimee: I’ve never watched what you call “porn”. Don’t even really know what it is. But I love sex. I love thinking about it, reading about it, writing about it, and enjoying it…

Guy Hogan: What advice can you offer to other women who want to break into the field of erotica?

A Aimee: Again I wouldn’t call it specifically erotica. I would just say – be yourself – express yourself freely and if sex is a part of the story you want to tell – well then go for it! We can only change the world by being the change we want to see. So sexual freedom and enjoying our sexuality can only happen one person at a time…

Guy Hogan: Tell us where to purchase Good Pussy Bad Pussy.

A Aimee: You can buy the book on Amazon, both as a printed book and as a Kindle edition. Plus the book is available as on Ebook on many sites.”

Thanks Guy for all your love and support! Amy

To see more of my posts & sex ramblings on Guy’s site, click here: http://pittsburghflashfictiongazette.net/category/the-work-of-a-aimee/

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It was her innocence that brought him to his knees. It might have seemed that he was a powerful man, in control, but her softness, naivety, and openness were far more powerful than his seemingly worldly savoir faire. Was it a cruel twist of fate or poetic justice that it turned out that it was him, Albert, who was afraid of taking the plunge. He – the man of so much confidence and bravado – was the one who was afraid of leaping into the unknown.

Her wonderful, sumptuous chestnut hair framed her lovely face, but still he trembled inside, knowing it was truly she, this green-eyed beauty he hardly knew, who was leading him into uncharted waters.

It was so unexpected, it had taken him by surprise.

But he had to admit he was the one who was awestruck, trembling on the brink. But how could it be? How could a man like Albert Giovanni end up here?

The first time he fucked her, that very night, that very first night, it had just been business as usual. The usual good fuck as he was wont to do. A fast, professional fuck where they both came hard and fast, giving satisfaction to both. And when it was done, he thought it was done. Over. Another fast fuck with another beautiful woman, as had been his way.

He rolled over in the big, low bed and sighed. Closed in upon himself. Self-satisfied. But then the strangest thing happened; it just did.

And he found himself, to his own great and everlasting surprise, turning slowly towards her again on that low bed of his. He was quite sure, quite positive in fact, that he was not doing the turning. It was as if the turning towards her was happening by itself. It was definitely not something he decided to do. Definitely not something he planned or even wanted… but it was happening anyway. And as it unfolded, he watched as he began to make love to Rachel again, slowly and gently this time.

‘Whatever am I doing?’ he thought, as he caressed her and heard her sigh. But things felt different when he touched her this time, he noticed; they just did. So he continued.

‘This is another kind of love-making,’ he thought. A kind of love-making he hadn’t tasted before. Because it felt different. It just did. It felt… somehow real. Yes, real. Like heartfelt or like… well he wasn’t quite sure how it felt because it was something he’d never actually felt before. So how could he know something he’d never known before. Never tasted before… But it was happening anyway. Despite himself. Regardless of himself. Regardless. It seemed to have its own life.

‘What’s going on?’ he thought as he felt the sea air change around him. ‘What is this…’ But it was beyond his control.

It was as if a great tide from a great ocean was coming thundering in and washing over him. Bringing with it, this mysterious sea change which was sweeping through his heart.

There was no denying it.

There was a wind coming up, a great powerful wind from somewhere, from somewhere unknown and far away, from some great depth that he had within him that he’d never experienced before.

So he stopped, even though he was deep inside her, and swept back her sumptuous chestnut hair and looked into those mysterious green eyes of hers. And when he looked, he was surprised to find she was actually there. Looking back at him, meeting him there where he was, not flinching, not wavering. Just there, fully present with him, a soft smile on her lips.

‘She’s actually here with me,’ he heard the words echoing inside his head. ‘She’s actually here… present… present… ‘

That was when he knew something profound was happening between them and he felt her open and allow him to reach her depths. He was quite unprepared for how it felt. Quite stunned. It was as if the wind was rushing in his ears, making his heart tremble. And he knew he’d been allowed to enter some sacred space, as an inexplicable unleashing of universal forces that were beyond his control took place.

From my new book “Good Pussy Bad Pussy in Captivity”.  To be released on June 26, 2015. You can pre-order the book on Amazon here: http://amzn.to/19aUrr6

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By some wild, crazy, roundabout path, Albert guided Rachel to a place where nothing except total surrender was possible.

She was no longer Rachel Somers with an identity worth protecting or preserving. He had robbed her as thoroughly as any man could of whatever it was she was.

He had stripped her bare. Left her with nothing she could identify with, and in that strange, naked state of being no woman she knew, she found herself connected to a sexuality so powerful that it jolted her beyond everyday reality to some awesome cosmic plane she did not recognize.

“This is not me,” she thought. “This is not anyone.”

That was when he plunged headlong, headstrong, into her, finding in her an intensity she did not know she possessed.

She spread her legs wide, baring her soul, allowing him entry everywhere – allowing him anything, everything. And when he raised himself up above her, supporting himself with his powerful arms, staring down at her with an intensity only he possessed – she understood him perfectly.

“Just when you think you’ve got it all figured out, woman… ” she heard the little demon inside her hissing softly in her ear.

For one short moment, the real Rachel Somers, the Rachel Somers inside the writhing, aching, longing body of this particular Rachel Somers, laughed. And though no one else in the entire universe heard, she did. And so she laughed heartily and joyfully at herself, and at Albert, and at her life, and at her search for wisdom, too.

“It’s almost too funny,” she thought.

And there she stood, perfectly poised. Perched, before that formidable plunge into the cosmic void when all that Light hit her.

“He is the most strange and powerful man I’ve ever known,” her brain screamed.

“I am the most strange and powerful woman I’ve ever known,” the echo came back from deep inside her.

And right before she let go and jumped, heart first and ecstatic, into the nothingness before her, she knew, once and for all, now and forever – that nothing in her life would ever be the same again. Nothing would ever be completely clear cut and understandable again. No never. Never ever. That part of her journey was done.

Then she closed her eyes and let the passion – his passion and hers – and the passion of living and loving and of being alive all wrapped in one – finally carry her over the edge.

And as she flew fast, hurtling through space towards her Infinite Self, she screamed, delirious as a sacrificial lamb suddenly released from the agony of the limitations of this earthly existence…

“And this is exactly the way it’s supposed to be… ” she thought as she disappeared.

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