Get ready to be shocked when I say that my newest release, UGLY NAKED PEOPLE, is not a work of erotic fiction!

This new e-book from Untreed Reads is, in fact, the very first non-erotic story I’ve had published. Sure, I’ve had a few LGBT romance stories published, but this one is a whole ‘nother kettle of fish. It’s lesbian literary fiction.

So, if UGLY NAKED PEOPLE isn’t about an ugly naked beast with two backs, what is it about?

Ugly Naked People

By: Giselle Renarde | Other books by Giselle Renarde
Published By: Untreed Reads Publishing, LLC
ISBN # 9781452443492

Categories: Lesbian Literature Short Stories

Rave is concerned about her girlfriend Astrid’s rapidly declining weight and health. As Astrid’s eating disorder begins to take its toll on the couple’s relationship, Rave hopes that a dramatic move on her part will save both Astrid and the future they could have together.

You can buy UGLY NAKED PEOPLE now from just about any reputable seller of ebooks, including Smashwords, AllRomance ebooks, and many others.

Hugs,

Giselle Renarde
Canada just got hotter!

http://gisellerenarde.webs.com

http://donutsdesires.blogspot.com
http://twitter.com/GiselleRenarde
http://audreyandlawrence.viviti.com/

I’ve never been the most trusting person in the world. In fact, I’m one of those casually-paranoid people who figures everyone’s out to get her in one way or another. It takes me a long time to become friends with anybody. Most people find me stand-offish until they really get to know me. I do test the waters with new acquaintances. It takes time to trust.

So, now that you know something deeply personal about me, I’m going to switch gears–sort of–to talk about home decor. Yes, that’s right, home decor with the armoires and the cushions and the HOYVIN-GLAVIN! (Sorry, just having a Professor Frink moment, there)

The very first time my girlfriend Sweet came to my apartment, she said (and I quote), “You know, if you moved the couch under the window and the TV unit against that wall, you could put your bookshelf over there and create a little reading nook with that chair.”

And I said, “Uh-huh…yeah, thanks for the advice. Now shut up and kiss me!” (Okay, that one was not a direct quote. I don’t remember what I said.)

I didn’t think I’d end up taking Sweet’s decor advice. It didn’t sound like it was going to work. If I moved the couch under the window, it would block my heating vents. And put a bookcase in the middle of the room? The more I thought about it, the stupider her idea sounded. Want to know why?

Because I’m a person who sees only obstacles. That’s it. My whole world is comprised of one obstacle after the next. That’s not necessarily a bad thing…unless you couple my obstacle-seeing characteristic with my “screw that” tendency. It’s fine if you see an obstacle and plan a way to overcome it. I don’t do that. I see the obstacle and I say, “Screw that. It’ll be too hard. It won’t work. There’s no point.”

But now that I’ve realized these things about myself, I can work at improving. That’s what life’s all about, right? Learning and growing and improving. So I took Sweet’s advice. I moved all my furniture around, adjusting for foreseen obstacles, and you know what? She was right! My living room looks amazing now.

Thus, we come full circle to trust. It is damn hard to trust people–for me. I don’t know if it is for you. And trusting Sweet’s home decor vision was akin to trusting her. In fact, it was a segment of trust, a little trust that makes up part of trust as a whole. The reason I didn’t hop right to taking her advise about my living room was that I couldn’t blindly trust that she knew what she was talking about. Seeing was believing, for me.

Now I’m filled with a sense of weathered awe as I see her vision fulfilled in my home. It makes me happy. It’s like a piece of her mind is living in my…living room–hey, neat! I trust her decor sense. Next victim is the bedroom. She’s got a vision for that as well.

Hugs,
Giselle Renarde
Canada just got hotter!

Today I got back from two weeks away and GOD am I glad for the solitude!

This past week, I vacationed with family. Siblings…parents…that sort of thing. You know what I remembered as I spent twenty four hours a day, seven days a week with my family? I remembered why I do not live with, in, on, around, or in the vague vicinity of my family. Don’t get me wrong–I do love them! I do…but…but…well, there’s only so much family I can handle. This week, I went a little overboard and now I’m feeling the consequences.

It feels a lot like a hangover.

The week before last, I stayed at my girlfriend’s house. I love her too. I do…(can you see where this is going?)…and I can spend much more time with her than with my family before I peak in annoyance…but…but…well, Sweet’s house is very much her house. It isn’t my space. If I’m loading the dishwasher the wrong way, I’m going to hear about it. And, “Why are you chopping the onion like that? No, no. Give me the knife. I’ll show you how…”

*sigh*

I do know how to chop an onion. I’ve done it before, with relatively minor consequences.

Anyhoo…today I’m in my own home, where I can chop onions however I damn well please and load the dishwasher…well, actually, I don’t have a dishwasher, so I don’t need to worry about that part. But the point is that I’m back in my own space, and not a moment too soon.

I love the people in my life. I love my friends, my family, and most of all my pernickety girlfriend who must have onions chopped just so. Even though I love all these people, I don’t want to live with a single one of them. Call me a hermit, but I would go crazy without my solitude.

Virginia Woolf had her room. I have my bed. Yes, I do share it with cats, but cats are much less annoying than people. I’ll tell you a secret–I’ve never liked sharing a bed with anyone. I much prefer sleeping alone.

Waking up beside Sweet is pleasant. I do enjoy watching her dream. Her face is so perfectly beautiful when she’s at rest. All the same, I could do without the snoring, the excess body heat, and the ridiculously bad music they play on the radio station she insists on waking up to.

Lone wolf…hermit…crazy cat lady…call me what you will, but I believe in having a bed of one’s own.

Hugs,
Giselle Renarde
Canada just got hotter!
gisellerenarde.webs.com
twitter.com/gisellerenarde

That’s right! THE BIRTHDAY GIFT by Giselle Renarde just won’t quit being popular! Many e-books enjoy a burst of popularity when they first hit the market, and then sales and awareness dwindle. THE BIRTHDAY GIFT is different. Even after a few fine years on the e-book market, it’s as much in demand as ever!

Why do readers enjoy THE BIRTHDAY GIFT ? One reader told me “it has something for everyone” because, as an MMFF menage story, there’s gay male, lesbian, and hetero naughtiness. Another reader calls THE BIRTHDAY GIFT “A Must Read!” Me? I like the surprise ending. I go for that sort of thing. Oh, and the cover is g-g-g-gorgeous!

What’s it all about? Read on

Meredith is a cake-baking, apron-wearing small-town Canadian mom. Her
guiding principle in life is, “What would June Cleaver do?” That is,
until a curious set of circumstances cause her to crash an outdoor
gathering where she stumbles upon a pair of delicious hunks getting a
little hands-on with each other. Surely June Cleaver would have headed
for the hills at the sight! Not Meredith. This relaxed get-together
really heats up when one man’s wife appears on the scene… and encourages
Meredith to join in.

Whew! Hot stuff! But the story’s not over yet. There’s still the
tropical vacation, the confinement in foreign prison, the trial for
freedom… and, hey, where’s Meredith’s husband in all this? It is his birthday, after all…

Intriguing, right? Well, it would be rude of me not to share a spicy excerpt, so here’s tidbit for those of us who love the image of two built guys getting frisky:

Excerpt from THE BIRTHDAY GIFT by Giselle Renarde

As Meredith drew her lids open, her heart nearly stopped.  On a built-in bench at the opposite end of the isolated deck sat Richard and Ash.   No clothes.  Two men—two strangers—naked in Joyce’s backyard.  A flutter of nervous excitement turned Meredith’s body into a battlefield.  Leave!  No, stay.  Watch!  No, go.

But how could she leave when, just a stone’s throw across the deck, Richard’s hard cock surged toward the well-defined muscles of his tight stomach? A tingling sensation culminated at the summit of Meredith’s lower lips when Ash reached over to stroke Richard’s rigid cock.  Was this an unwelcome act?  Apparently not!  Richard’s magnificent hairless chest glimmered with sweat as he swept a hand across Ash’s brawny thigh.  Close your mouth, young lady!  You’ll catch flies.

This must have been a common occurrence, because Joyce didn’t seem surprised in the least.  Meredith tried to be unnerved, offended, angered, upset by the men’s behavior, but it was impossible.  Two gorgeous men lying side-by-side in the summer sun and stroking each others’ rigid shafts?  June Cleaver would have been long gone by now, but Meredith was in awe of the men’s breathtaking bodies, of their surging muscles, of their cocks sparkling with pre-cum.  This was the single sexiest image she’d ever seen.  Richard and Ash didn’t seem to mind her being there, so what was the harm in watching?

A white hand firmly took hold of a thick brown cock while a brown hand slowly jerked off the large white rod.  This act ought to be the new symbol of international peace and brotherhood. Two masculine males pumping each others’ stiff rods was far more stimulating than a simple black hand shaking a white hand.  A warm tingling sensation took over Meredith’s body.

She clutched her fruit platter for fear she’d drop it and send porcelain and mango flying.  Maintain a safe distance.

* * *

Maybe you’ve read THE BIRTHDAY GIFT already.  If you haven’t, why not pick up a copy?  You can buy THE BIRTHDAY GIFT from eXcessica Publishing , All Romance e-books , Amazon , or any respected e-book retailer!

Hugs,

Giselle Renarde

Canada just got hotter!
http://freewebs.com/gisellerenarde/

http://donutsdesires.blogspot.com

I used to know, but I don’t anymore.

Fifteen years ago I could predict exactly the type of person I would develop a crush on. I knew every last characteristic. That person would be:

• Male
• Healthy & Fit
• Aged 48-60
• Bald
• Highly Intelligent/Academic
• Refined Manners and Tastes

Think Patrick Stewart. Yeppers, that was the man for me. Every time a man like that crossed my path, I’d melt into a gooey puddle of crush-juice.

Ten years ago, I noticed a shift in my crushes. Bald men stopped turning my head. A different type of person started attracting my attention:

• Female
• Artsy/Quirky
• Aged 18-30
• Small in Stature
• Eclectic Tastes
• Dark Hair

My rockabilly babe, pin-up model Bernie Dexter, should give you some idea of the kind of girl I’m talking about.

Now…I just don’t know anymore! I can’t predict when a crush will come along and what she’ll look like or act like. It’s like there are absolutely no commonalities anymore, except that I haven’t had a crush on a boy in a good ten years. What is my “crush type”? I’ve been mulling this over for a couple days now and…I’ve got nothing!

I mean, I think about my girlfriend of two years, and she doesn’t fit into any known category. Sweet’s:

• MTF Transsexual
• Tall
• Redhead
• “Curvy”
• Generous
• Wise Woman
• Geeky/Trekkie
• Tells Really Bad Jokes

Mind you, I don’t remember ever really having a crush on Sweet. I knew there was something special about her, and I fell in love. Or maybe I did have a crush on her…and maybe I still do. I certainly do find myself fantasizing about kissing her while I’m dozing on the subway. I still think about her all the time. Every time I’m in a store, I can’t resist buying her a present, even if it’s just a bottle of iced tea.

But that doesn’t help me in establishing my crush type. When I think about the women I’ve crushed on over the past five years, I see no similarities. Maybe we only see the similarities in retrospect. Maybe five years from now, it’ll all be clear.

What about you? Are there certain physical qualities you know you’ll be attracted to in any given person? Or do the physical qualities have to accompany personality qualities? Can you clearly identify the kind of person you’ll develop a crush on?

What’s your crush type?

Bright Blessings,
Giselle Renarde
Canada just got hotter!
www.gisellerenarde.webs.com

The newest of my transgender lesbian stories is now available from the TransFix Line at lyd Alterotica!

Leslie Goosemoon the cowgirl used to be Leslie Goosemoon the cowboy, and folks in these parts don’t take kindly to changes.

New to the rodeo experience, Dina doesn’t understand why the biggest star on the circuit is despised by all. When she runs a search on the rodeo champ, it all becomes clear: Leslie Goosemoon the cowgirl used to be Leslie Goosemoon the cowboy, and folks in these parts don’t take too kindly to those people. The town’s intolerable ignorance drives Dina to seek out Leslie at her modest cabin, where desire is sparked by enlightening conversation, dusty jeans, and a refreshing shower in the great outdoors.

Excerpt:
“Leslie? Leslie Goosemoon?” Dina cried, chasing after the rodeo champ. “Wait up, will ya?”

The remarkable rider stopped in her tracks twenty meters ahead, and Dina slowed her gait from a gallop to an amble. It felt like a good five minutes before the mysterious stranger turned her head. Even when she did, the brim of her tawny cowboy hat obscured her eyes until she took it off to wipe dusty sweat from her brow.

“Well?” Leslie Goosemoon prodded.

Dina’s blood ran cold. She wasn’t anticipating such piercing blue eyes on a rough and tumble rider. Her eyes should be brown like the mud spray across her cheek.

“Hi,” Dina began, forgetting why she’d chased her down in the first place.

“Whaddya want?” the rider grumbled, her quick-draw stance keeping Dina at a distance.

“It just seems strange that nobody came to congratulate you. All the other girls in competition have their legions of fans. Here you’re the big winner and you’ve got no one telling you how great you rode today.” Dina tried to sound casual, taking a tentative step forward.

With a shrug, Leslie Goosemoon replied, “Lots of folks on the circuit could do without me.”

“Well, of course they could; if you weren’t around, those other girls might have a chance in hell at winning. Do you always ride like that?”

Another shrug, and a fraction of a smile.

“This is my first time,” Dina went on with a keen smirk. “At a rodeo, I mean.”

“That so?” Leslie asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yup.” Silence made Dina nervous, so she filled it. “My roommate’s boyfriend, Rod the Clod, commandeered our TV during the Calgary Stampede last year. I never liked cowboy stuff before that, but when you’re subjected to something night and day…”

“…it grows on you.”

“Exactly. Although, I never did warm up to Rod the Clod.” Dina hesitated, but what the hell. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. “I probably hated him so much because that rat bastard totally crushed my chance to get with Vicky. Hard to make a move with him on the couch twenty-four-seven.”

With a wolfish smile, Leslie gave her a blatant once-over. “You lookin’ to get over Vicky?”

Dina shrugged, meeting her penetrative gaze straight on. Leslie took two steps closer. In one fluid motion, her arm swooped around Dina’s waist and a dusty hand brushed through her hair, firm against her scalp. Those pink lips hovered like Tantalus’ water glass, so close she could nearly sip them.

“Best way to get over someone is to get under someone.”

Buy Leslie Goosemoon Rides Again by Giselle Renarde Now from All Romance ebooks!

Hugs,
Giselle Renarde
Canada just got hotter!
http://freewebs.com/gisellerenarde/
http://donutsdesires.blogspot.com

Like lesbian erotica?

Me too.  That’s why I write it.  The newest of my new lesbian releases is a great little Torquere Press Sip called WAXING IS FOR PUSSIES.  Best part?  It’s only $1.29!

Claire is a butch dyke who doesn’t go in for all the “girly” stuff. Her girlfriend Billie works at a salon, joyfully painting nails all day. When Billie takes up hot waxing, she asks Claire to be her test subject. She also asks her salon buddy Soo Jin to give her hand. How will Claire and Billie react when Soo Jin takes the request for help as an invitation to play?

Excerpt from WAXING IS FOR PUSSIES:

“Have you ever had a bikini wax?” Billie asked as she ate.

I laughed. “Do I look like someone who gets waxed?”

With a shrug, she said, “I don’t know. You got a pedicure once.”

“From you,” I reminded her. Billie lifted a piece of sushi saturated in soy sauce to her mouth. “I just wanted to meet you. Every time I tried to say hi on the street, I chickened out. I get nervous talking to beautiful girls.”

Billie smiled as she chewed. “Want one?”

I waved away the sushi. “Nah, I already ate, but thanks.”

Shaking her pretty head, she leaned forward to kiss my cheek. I knew she’d left a big red lipstick stain in her wake, but I ignored it for the moment. “Not sushi, sweetie,” she cooed like a crafty little dove. “A bikini wax. Want one?”

Without meaning to, I laughed out loud. There were so many reasons to say no, I didn’t know where to begin. “What, you mean at the salon?” I asked. “Because I’m pretty sure your boss banned me for life.”

“We could do it after hours,” she countered. “I’m a key holder.”

What other excuses could I come up with? “I’ve heard it hurts like hell.”

“Oh, don’t give me that,” she said with a sneaky grin. She spread some wasabi on her sushi and topped it with pickled ginger before setting it in a pool of soy sauce. “You have how many tattoos? I think you can handle a little hot wax.”

Rising from the footstool, she pulled down on the hem of the black cotton dress that served as her uniform. The one last piece of sushi, she left in front of me in its plastic box. I stared at it in displaced awe. After tiptoeing to the door, she turned around and said, “Come down after hours. We’ll have a good time.”

Buy Now for only $1.29!

Thanks for reading!
Giselle Renarde
Canada just got hotter!
http://freewebs.com/gisellerenarde/
http://donutsdesires.blogspot.com

My first novella Ondine: An Erotic Tale of Art and Deception is now available and I couldn’t be more excited!

Ondine has something for everyone! Do you like darling romance about clumsy artists falling for rich boys? Got it! Do you love girls succumbing to the temptation other women? Got it! How about pansexual hippie orgies and M/F/F ménage? Got those too! If you love it, Ondine ‘s got it! This title is already available as an audio book from iTunes, Audible and Audible UK, and now you can get it in print or as an e-book !

Blurb~
Novice painter Evelyn Fon gets more than she bargained for after receiving her first big commission with the brand new Drinkwater Hotel. Who would have guessed Gavin Drinkwater, heir to the family fortune, would take such a keen personal interest in her? But when Evelyn arrives at the hotel’s elegant Gala Celebration, she soon discovers she’s there as a date for Gavin Drinkwater Senior, her crush’s elitist – albeit incredibly handsome – father!

In attempting to escape the party – not to mention her embarrassment – Evelyn stumbles upon Gavin’s mother, Imelda. Over a bottle of champagne, Imelda reveals the 20-year-old tale of her torrid lesbian love affair with a young ballerina named Ondine. But, as Evelyn soon finds out from the Drinkwater patriarch, there’s more deception to her love story than even Imelda is aware. Can Evelyn uncover the truths buried in the past and reunite Gavin’s estranged free-loving parents?Perhaps her role in the family drama will even earn her a place in the bashful heir’s heart.

An erotic journey through the worlds of ballet, art, and passionate liaisons, Ondine is a sensual exploration of pansexual free love wrapped in a boy-meets-girl tale of mix-ups and misunderstandings. Warning: This title contains graphic language and depictions of lesbian sex, a pansexual orgy, and M/F/F ménage.

Erotic Excerpt from Ondine

Ondine’s impulse to flee subsided as Yvette traced gloved fingers across her forearm, consoling, “Ah! No, no, no! Don’t cry, ma chere. We don’t want your eyes all red and puffy as you greet your future husband.” Yvette found a tissue in her purse and dried her eyes. “There. You look more beautiful than ever. I would be proud if you were my bride.”

Her bride? What a ridiculous thing to say! Yvette’s bride? Champagne bubbles effervesced in Ondine’s belly, rising up through her chest until they burst as laughter from her throat. She couldn’t contain the joy of being close again after weeks of estrangement and longing. A smile crawled across Yvette’s cheeks as laughter burst the tension pervading the cold church room.

“Clotilde did my hair. Do you like it?” Ondine asked, fishing for a compliment.

“Absolument!” she giggled. “I always said you looked good with your hair up.”

Giddy now, Ondine danced over to the old sofa at the far end of the room and collapsed there in her bridal gown. Yvette followed to lean in beside her, midnight black against pristine white. What a relief to feel at ease after so long. How wonderful to giggle and chat, and simply feel comfortable with Yvette again.

“There’s something I have to tell you,” Ondine admitted, gazing into her friend’s cheerful eyes. Of course, she couldn’t say the words with Yvette looking right at her, so she leaned in close and whispered, “I can’t kiss Rejean without imagining you. Isn’t that scandalous?”

For all her reluctance, now that she’d finally given voice to her irreverent desires, they no longer seemed so devastating. In fact, they seemed rather funny. Ondine laughed. They both did.

“Do you think I can ever be happy with Rejean?” Ondine asked.

“I hope so, for your sake,” she sighed with seeming sincerity. Yvette spoke slowly into her ear, allowing each word the weight it deserved. “But if you want the absolute truth, I suspect you’d be more fulfilled if I were your lover.”

A new wave of desire bred goose bumps along Ondine’s bare arms. Yvette sat so near to her she could feel the intense heat radiating from that body cloaked all in black. Their cheeks brushed as Yvette leaned back to look into her eyes. Ondine knew she was about to get kissed. She knew it and did nothing to prevent it. She wanted that kiss. Would it feel as she’d always imagined? Soft and warm? Slow and languorous?

Yvette placed a firm hand on Ondine’s cheek, holding her gaze steady. As their lips touched, glossy pink against deep crimson, heavy breaths escaped them both. Ondine savoured their long-awaited first kiss, her frantic tongue swimming in the warm pool of Yvette’s mouth. Her body was electrified. Particles of energy darted through her like shooting stars. Never has she imagined a woman could kiss so heatedly, with such blazing intensity. Ondine wanted more. She wanted everything.

Welcoming Yvette’s touch, she hiked up the skirts of her gown with desperate determination. Moth to flame, Yvette’s hand cupped her mound over her new silk panties. Cupped and squeezed. Beneath her bridal lingerie, sweet juices flowed. Surrendering herself completely to the woman in black, she laid limp beneath the torrent of kisses. Whatever Yvette wished for, Ondine desired.

Forcing her satin-gloved hand beneath Ondine’s panties, Yvette plunged impassioned fingers into her silken slit. The nectar flowed faster as she rubbed those tender lips. Yvette broke away to watch in the mirror, mesmerized as she massaged the bride’s clito, but Ondine had waited far too long for that kiss. She wouldn’t let it slip away so easily. Grasping Yvette’s head in her hands, she brought the girl’s lips to hers and kissed them in a frenzy. There wasn’t much time. She had to get married soon.

Check Ondine out at eXcessica Publishing !

Thanks for reading!
Giselle Renarde
Canada just got hotter!
http://freewebs.com/gisellerenarde/

Are you like me?

Before you say “Hell no!” and run away, let me explain. As a writer of erotic fiction, I’m constantly making word choices. That’s true of any writer, of course, but we in the erotica field are often making word choices to elicit certain reactions–we want to turn people on, or, at very least, NOT turn them off.

There are so many words to choose from when we’re describing body parts or physical acts, and I’m sure we all have our go-to words. I tend to go with “cock” for penis, often “pussy” but these days also “slit” for vagina, “tits” for breasts, and “asshole” for…asshole.

These are the standards, commonly employed in our field. They add to the mood and dynamic we’ve created between characters without being so weird or shocking they jolt the reader out of the moment.

But, if you’re like me, there are euphemisms you love but never use. For me, I happen to get a kick out of the word “schlong.” I think that word is hilarious! Have I ever used it in my work? No. Why? It’s too funny. If I were writing a comedy piece, I might find a place for it, but otherwise it’s probably going to raise more eyebrows than libidos. Look what happens to this excerpt from my menage story THE BIRTHDAY GIFT when I replace “cock” with “schlong:”

As Meredith drew her lids open, her heart nearly stopped. On a built-in bench at the opposite end of the isolated deck sat Richard and Ash. No clothes. Two men—two strangers—naked in Joyce’s backyard? A flutter of nervous excitement turned Meredith’s body into a battlefield. Leave! No, stay. Watch! No, go.
But how could she leave when, just a stone’s throw across the deck, Richard’s hard SCHLONG surged toward the well-defined muscles of his tight stomach? A tingling sensation culminated at the summit of Meredith’s lower lips when Ash reached over to stroke Richard’s rigid SCHLONG. Was this an unwelcome act? Apparently not! Richard’s magnificent hairless chest glimmered with sweat as he swept a hand across Ash’s brawny thigh. Close your mouth, young lady! You’ll catch flies.

Makes me titter more than anything else. I’ve got another one, too. I happen to really enjoy the word “snatch,” but, again, it comes across a little men’s mag for a lot of erotic encounters. Thinking back, I’m not sure if I’ve used “snatch” in my work. It’s a distinct possibility, but there are occasions where it just doesn’t work. Here’s a snatchified excerpt from my pansexual (m/f, f/f, f/f/m) novella ONDINE, which comes out on March 29th, 2010:

Welcoming Yvette’s touch, she hiked up the skirts of her gown with desperate determination. Moth to flame, Yvette’s hand cupped her SNATCH over her new silk panties. Cupped and squeezed. Beneath her bridal lingerie, sweet juices flowed. Surrendering herself completely to the woman in black, Ondine laid limp beneath the torrent of kisses. Whatever Yvette wished for, Ondine desired.

Forcing her satin-gloved hand beneath Ondine’s panties, Yvette plunged impassioned fingers into her silken SNATCH. The nectar flowed faster as she rubbed those tender lips. Yvette broke away to watch in the mirror, mesmerized as she massaged the bride’s SNATCH, but Ondine had waited far too long for that kiss. She wouldn’t let it slip away so easily. Grasping Yvette’s head in her hands, she brought the girl’s lips to hers and kissed them in a frenzy. There wasn’t much time. She had to get married soon.

Again, not quite the effect I was going for.

Oh, I just thought of another one–motherfucker. I LOVE that word. I USE that word. My editors, on the other hand, don’t love it quite so much and tend to gently sweep it under the rug. I almost never get away with that baby. “It’s too porny.” Well, strap me on and ride me like a pony, because I guess I’ve got a porny side too! LOL

So, again I’ll ask: are you like me? Do you have any of these funny or crass euphemisms you’d like to use but self-censor?

Do share!

Cheers,
Giselle Renarde
Canada just got hotter!

Cheers!
Giselle Renarde

Canada just got hotter!

http://www.freewebs.com/gisellerenarde

http://twitter.com/GiselleRenarde