Archive for November, 2008

Love hotel guide

November 24, 2008

Check out this blog post about love hotels:

In recent years, Japan has issued a crack-down on love hotel establishments. It’s becoming increasingly hard to maintain one of these hotels, especially when not in a red light district or love hotel ‘area’ like Love Hotel Hill in Shibuya. Tokyo’s a special victim to this; I believe the scene in Oosaka is still comparatively alive and well. As a result of this, a lot of the more elaborate and shifty hotels – including a great deal of the themed hotels – are being slowly killed off. I keep reading about an elusive dungeon-themed love hotel somewhere, but despite my various efforts have yet to find one and so I can only assume that it was among those to go.

I have to admit that now that I’ve started checking them out with a friend or two I’ve fallen in love with the novelty of them, even if I’m not there to sleep around. The rooms are a welcome change to a lot of the accommodation I’m used to in Japan; the ones I’ve visited have all been HUGE and spacious and full of fun things to do. They are sound-proof too, which is great when you love to laugh into the wee hours, very loudly.

Of course, with the ‘clean’ image the new generation of love hotels are trying to promote (partially to please the ladies with a ‘romantic’ atmosphere as opposed to seedy), the majority of them are no longer just for hot-blooded couples. A lot of them now offer video games and karaoke in the rooms to entertain the kiddies if you and your family are caught out without a place to stay one night. My only reservation is that the check-out times can be quite early, ie. from 10am, and after a sleepless night talking (or focking, whatever it is you’re into) the last thing you want is to be kicked out the moment your eyes finally shut. Of course, if the need be you can always check promptly into another hotel during the day on ‘free time’, or non peak time rates.

An excerpt from Do Not Disturb: “Talking Dirty”

November 24, 2008

Shanna Germain posted an excerpt from her OCD-themed erotica story (yes, you read that right, and yes, it’s hot, and heartbreaking, all at once) “Talking Dirty” that will appear in Do Not Disturb: Hotel Sex Stories, so I’m going to post that here too:

In the bathroom, I straighten the edges of the bath mat and make sure the toilet paper is still covered in its protective sleeve. I put both bars of mini-soap, safe inside their paper wrapping, on the sill of the tub. The shower is almost all glass, clear and perfect. I turn it on full blast, making sure that the water is just warmer than body temperature. The spray turns the skin of my wrist bright pink.

I dry my hands on the very back of the towel, where she won’t be able to see and make sure the terry cloth hangs perfectly straight. Then I slip back out to where she stands in the hall, shifting from foot to foot, elbows in her palms.

“It’s perfect,” I say. Even if it wasn’t, I would say this. She’s willing to believe for me, to try, as long as I believe. If I show doubts, if I ask if it’s okay, if she’s okay, it starts the mechanism in her head. I think of it as a bomb—once it starts, you can’t stop it until it explodes—but Cate says it’s more like a clock, winding its unstoppable way up until she can’t hear anything but the alarm, the way it screams “cuckoo, cuckoo!” I wish it was a clock, that easy. I’d hire someone to go in there and rework the wires, give that cuckoo bird a little shut-up surgery. But, of course, it doesn’t work like that. The brain, as Cate’s therapist says, is not a simple machine.

Cate smiles, but it’s her nervous smile, the one where she pinches her bottom lip between her teeth. “Okay then,” she says. “Let’s do this. Boom-boom-boom.”

I want to kiss her for trying to make a joke, but it’s too early. I haven’t even washed yet. “Come in to my room,” I say as I pick her up and push the door open with my elbow. She closes her eyes as I carry her through the main room into the bathroom.

“It’s up,” she says. “Come up to my room.” Eyelids squeezed shut, her hands still holding her elbows. This is a tic in the ritual. I hold her there in the bathroom, her balled-up weight against my chest, waiting to see if this will throw us off course. My breath stays tight in my chest; it’s been three weeks since we’ve made love. Last week, one of the mini soaps wasn’t wrapped. Before that, it was something she couldn’t explain, the feeling that something was off. Once, we never even made it to the room—a man touched Cate’s elbow in the elevator on the way up—and I just pushed the L button and we rode back down to the lobby without a word.

Cate inhales—a big sound that pushes her belly out. She pops her cheeks out like a chipmunk and wiggles her lips over her teeth. Holding her breath and counting down from ten. This is something her therapist’s taught her, I think. A way to stop the wind-up. Sometimes it works. Sometimes it just makes her dizzy.

She opens those pale eyes.

“Okay, I’m good,” she says. “Let’s do this.” Oh God. Have I heard more beautiful words? No.

“You’re fucking beautiful,” I say.

“Okay, okay,” she says. “Just get my beautiful ass in the fucking shower.”

I want to laugh, to kiss her again. The therapist says she’d never heard of swearing as a way to cope, but that we are free to use it if it works. Sometimes it works. This time, Cate only shakes a little as I lift her, still clothed, into the shower.

“Made for Sex” – introduction to Do Not Disturb: Hotel Sex Stories

November 20, 2008

I’m so thrilled that the contents of Do Not Disturb: Hotel Sex Stories just got finalized. I’ll post the Table of Contents here soon, but for now, I can share my introduction to the book (it may get tweaked a little in copyediting, but I couldn’t resist):

Introduction: Made for Sex

Hotel rooms are, in a word, hot. The minute I enter one, I want to strip off all my clothes and dive naked between the sheets, whether I have a lover there to share in the indulgence with me or not. Much more so than my own bed, hotel beds make me horny. They are, or at least, seem to me, to be made for sex.

Hotels give us the chance to unwind, relax, and, if we choose, become someone else. Behind closed doors, we are free to frolic, fuck, and flaunt ourselves. It doesn’t matter whether the hotel is in a faraway land or in your own hometown; the point is, it’s a clean slate. It’s not your home filled with all the reminders of what you could or should be doing. Other people have fucked and will fuck in the bed you’re about to sleep in; that can be a turn-on in and of itself. It’s your borrowed space, for an hour, a day, a night, or longer, and in that time, you can claim it, control it, use it for your own naughty purposes. Other guests are prowling the hotel, checking in, checking out, banging and getting banged against the wall. There’s a sense that anything can happenæand quite often, it does.

To me, the anonymity of hotel rooms, their personality wiped clean with each new guest, is part of their appeal. They beckon us with their welcoming ways. They offer an escape from the everyday, a chance to let loose and become someone else. In Do Not Disturb, I wanted to capture the ways hotels fit into our erotic imagination, whether they’re a necessity or a luxury. Hotels let us explore parts of our passion that get left behind in the rush of daily life.

The authors whose work you are about to read understand perfectly the allure of a fresh hotel roomæor a hotel lobby. Indeed, the entire atmosphere a hotel offers can simply scream of sex. This goes for five-star and by-the-hour joints. They each have something to add, and here you’ll find romps between lovers and strangers, reunions and quickies, as these characters indulge in their new settings.

Many of the characters here use hotels for secrecy, relying on the unspoken code of employees to never share what goes on. Others use them for flirting, for catching their prey. Many need a hotel room in order to engage in an affair or a roleplay. Whether exploring Japan’s love hotels in Isabelle Gray’s “So Simple a Place” or getting “A Room at the Grand” for a very special callgirl, the men and women you’ll read about get off on their surroundings. The hotel itself becomes a player in their affair, a sign of the lengths they’ll go to be together.

And this book wouldn’t be complete without some extramarital affairs that can only happen in hotel rooms, like the lovers in Lisabet Sarai’s “Reunion” or Gwen Masters’s “Memphis.” For these characters, the hotel room takes on added meaning for it is an ever-changing venue where their relationships grow, where they can savor each other’s bodies without their spouses knowing, or so they hope.

Hotel rooms are also perfect for quickies, those fast fucks that you only need an hour or so for, made all the more arousing for their brevity. In Saskia Walker’s “The Lunch Break,” a sultry waitress pounces on a diner, and in my “Hump Day,” a couple shed their business personae once a week to become the kind of people they could never be (or fuck) at home.

Even in the more innocent stories here, the vacation sex, the getaways among couples, there’s something just a little clandestine about these hotel room hookups. That air of perversion is what makes getting serviced in a hotel (or motel) infinitely sweeter than doing it anywhere else. It’s a private way of being an exhibitionist, of leaving the staff and fellow guests guessing (or parading around in your hotel robes). Sometimes it’s a neighbor who’ll lure you from the safety of your relationship, such as the lesbian who teaches Madlyn March’s protagonist a thing or two in “Heart-Shaped Holes,” or the way Elizabeth Coldwell’s fellow jurors wind up relieving some tension in between trial time.

There’s a hotel in New York, the Library Hotel, that has long intrigued me. They offer an Erotica Suite, filled with strawberries, whipped cream, red roses, erotic dice, Mionetto Presecca, edible honey dust, and a Kama Sutra pocket guide. They’re upfront in their intention that you truly savor their package, as well as your lover’s. I’ve never stayed there, or done more than pass by. In some ways, I prefer to keep its beauty safely tucked away in my imagination, the kind of room I’d use with a rich lover from out of town who’d seduce me with his or her accent, whisper to me in a foreign tongue before taking that foreign tongue and licking me all over. That’s another thing about hotel rooms: they are perfect to fantasize about. In them, and in your dreams about them, you can have any kind of sex with anyone (or everyone) you want.

I can tell you that the sex I’ve had in hotel rooms has been some of the hottest of my life. I get off on knowing that neighbors may hear me, and in fact, that brings out the exhibitionist in me. The sexiest porn director I know took me to his hotel room in Manhattan one night and while his porn star girlfriend was elsewhere, we indulged in one of the most dirty, powerful, delicious fucks I’ve ever had, and when he came all over my chest, I reveled in it. I didn’t wash it off, either, but proudly let it dry on my skin and couldn’t stop the smile that found its way to my lips as I took the subway home.

Once, in some random seedy L.A. hotel, another lover and I hadn’t brought any condoms, and instead had to make do with a paddle and a butt plugæpoor us. In a seedy Midtown motel, I spent a few hours romping with a very sexy young man who showed me all kinds of ways I could twist my body to extend my pleasure, then felt a shocked, naughty thrill as he entered the bathroom while I peed and watched me before dipping his fingers into the stream. Something I likely wouldn’t have allowed at home became acceptable in a place I’d likely never find myself again. And when I’m in a hotel room by myself, tucked away under the sheets, I feel naughty and decadent, even if the only party guests I’m hosting are my fingers and my pussy.

While I doubt hotels are going to be stocking this book in their dresser drawers alongside The Bible, I hope that it finds its way into hotel romps. I picture lovers reading aloud to one another as they get ready to mark their hotel room, or in the afterglow, perhaps leaving it behind for the next lucky guest. I hope hotel staff spirit it away and read it during their downtime. I hope the next time you enter a hotel lobby, even if you have no intention of getting busy with anyone you may find there, that you’ll at least notice the many erotic possibilities that greet you.

My most recent hotel rendezvous was at the ultra-fancy art-filled Chambers Hotel in Minneapolis. I was staying by myself for two nights, and while I didn’t share my bed, the room itself beckoned to me. I found myself getting horny as I dove between the covers, wishing I had a lover to share my good fortune with. Now I have this book, which I hope you’ll take with you on your travels, perhaps read it while lounging in a hotel lobby, or whisper from it into your lover’s ear before you make so much noise in your hotel room bed that someone calls security. However and wherever you read this book, I hope it turns you on as much as it does me.

Rachel Kramer Bussel
New York City

More hotel sex I’ve had

November 19, 2008

I forget the name of this hotel, I think it may be the Hilton, it’s up on 6th Avenue in the low 50’s. Every time I pass it I think of this column, “Hot Sex With a Porn Director” (one of the bonuses of having written a sex column is being able to call up memories like this in such precise detail):

I was so turned on I could barely stand. Thankfully, DCypher was right there and I flung myself at him. He kissed me, his tongue ring surprisingly gentle. He was all over me, and I liked it. It’s hard to feel naughty at a porn party, but somehow I managed, letting his hands roam up my skirt as I wondered if he’d dare slip them into my panties. I closed my eyes, pulling his arms around me, then bucked back against him and sucked on his fingers, no longer caring who might be watching.

Soon enough, we were in a cab to his hotel, pawing each other the whole ride. While Justine went off with a female playmate, we finished what we’d started at the party across their big, warm bed. The sex was rough, intense, and powerful, the kind that may be routine for him but made me convulse—and squirt. I was overwhelmed. I asked, “What are you doing to me?”

“Fucking you the way you should be fucked,” he said truthfully. Our frantic, fast-paced passion made me feel more sexually alive than I had in a long time. I was so comfortable that it felt we’d been together before. Afterward, he confessed that he’d done some porn acting too, so I actually had fucked a porn star, not just a director. …

To DCypher—thank you for making me blush, making me come, and making me feel like your very own personal hooker. I felt like a filthy whore, in the sexiest possible way, as you came all over my chest, and especially as I walked out of the hotel and onto the subway in my miniskirt at 2 o’clock in the morning.

College Callgirl’s Guide to NYC Sex Hotels

November 19, 2008

A classic Gridskipper post – College Callgirls’s Guide to NYC Sex Hotels. I’ll pick one to highlight that I’ve actually had sex in:

The Madison is offering “special summer rates” of $120 to $164 per day. I’m surprised they don’t have hourly options, since College Callgirl claims “the Madison hotel is … in frequent use by the crackheads, hookers, and perverts that are my people, and the management likes us.”

Madison Hotel
21 E 27th St
New York, NY 10016
(212) 532-7373

Here’s some of what I did there:

When we get to the hotel, he is as charming and gallant as if this were a normal date. He’s brought everything I could have wanted and more—condoms, lube, vibrators, along with bananas, Power Bars, vanilla-scented shampoo, and candles. There are a few moments of slight awkwardness, but they quickly fade. It’s a relief to focus solely on our bodily pleasure without any dating drama. It’s amazing how easily I’m able to adjust to his transition from relative stranger to new sex partner. Even though I know he wouldn’t be a suitable boyfriend, once I accept that this is casual sex, nothing more and nothing less, I can focus solely on my physical pleasure. I’m fixated on his long, soft fingers, and suckle them each one by one until he makes me stop so he can undress me. I’m already wet and don’t protest. “Welcome home,” he says, referring to my six sex-free months, as his hands stroke my pussy until it feels like a continuous round of palms caressing me.

He’s brought a Hitachi Magic Wand, as befits Betty Dodson’s boy toy, and shows me various positions I’ve never heard of—one leg straight and one leg raised up on a pillow, one with me on my hands and knees while he stands behind me—all interesting, but also distracting. I’m used to using my Magic Wand at home, alone, in a very precise way. We try these out and then go back to more familiar positions.

I’ve had to pee since I arrived, but forget about it in the midst of my arousal. When we’re done with round one, I can’t wait anymore and get up to use the bathroom. As I’m sitting naked on the toilet, poised with my legs spread, he comes in without asking. I’m all set to tell him to go away but he shushes me and I let him stay. Then his hand reaches between my legs. I’m not prepared for the immense shock waves of arousal his touch brings me. I’ve only been in this situation once before, and I couldn’t pee at all. But Eric stares at me as he strokes my oversensitive clit, and the more he does, the more I tremble. I still have to pee, but now that desire battles with my need to come. My toes are pointed and my legs shake so hard I have to hold onto the bathtub’s edge. I shudder for several very long moments as I pee over his fingers. It’s hotter than anything I could’ve planned, perhaps because I’m part horrified, part turned on.

HotelChatter’s Guide to Great Hotel Sex

November 19, 2008

HotelChatter is fast becoming one of my favorite websites.

Check out their guide to great hotel sex, including such gems as:

3. Lighting: And then there’s the issue of lighting. Look for hotels with lighting that can be reached from the bed; it’s sexy to be able to switch that bedside lamp off without a big fuss — and notsomuch to have to get up and walk your naked ass across the room to flip a switch so you can navigate the room’s unfamiliar terrain afterward. Plus soft lamps give ample opportunity for a little mood lighting action.

And don’t forget the bathroom!

1. Things You Want: When it comes to sex, the bathroom is probably one of the most overlooked (and underutilized!) hotel room features. Things you want: big tubs (um, hello), counterspace (imagine the possibilities!) and large shower stalls that aren’t, you know, just little bathtubs (if applicable). Also, bath butlers, bubble bath, lots of hand towels.

Live sex on your hotel TV?

November 19, 2008

from a January 2007 New York Times article:

In the world of on-demand viewing of sexually explicit material, the next step could be the ability to watch live performers from the privacy of a hotel room.

That was one topic during a panel discussion here at Internext, an annual trade show for sex entertainment industry producers, marketers and payment processors.

Gregory Clayman, the owner of the live-action company Video Secrets, predicted that the industry would soon be selling not just videos on demand in mainstream hotels, but images of people having sex live over the hotels’ entertainment systems.

“We feel that live, right now, is coming of age,” Mr. Clayman said. “We are planning to make the jump to hotel rooms.”

He said that as television sets and computers merge into the same appliance, he saw no reason that live action sex would not get a place in on-demand services in hotels. Some existing Web sites already allow customers to send text messages to direct the performers.

Americans spent $1.6 billion last year for on-demand and pay-per-view video, according to JupiterKagan, a media research firm. It estimates that about a third of those sales were for sex films.

Anne Taulane, managing editor of Lodging magazine, who has written about the ways hotel chains require sex films to be edited and about groups that oppose any such films, expressed doubt that the major hotel chains would ever go along.

“That would be a hard sell to the big hotel companies,” she said in a telephone interview. “The porn offered now is a little more acceptable to the mainstream” than viewing live action over a hotel’s video entertainment system.

Sex toys right in your hotel room at England’s The Vincent Hotel

November 19, 2008

Forget trying to get your vibrator through customs or even airport security! From Rates to Go, the scoop on England’s The Vincent Hotel, which offers a sex toy kit as part of its amenities for guests!

The Vincent Hotel, which is a new 60 room boutique hotel that will soon be opening in northwest England, will be putting an interesting twist to the term “minibar.” Rather than offering just the traditional alcoholic beverages and snacks, the hotel will be offering new treats in the form of sex toys.

“We want to provide our residents with a distinct and highly individual experience in their own private, opulent space,” said owner Paul Adams.

Located in Southport, which is near to Liverpool, the seaside resort plans to offer what it is terming “intimate seduction kits” in all of its rooms. Items to be featured in these kits include massage oil, lubricating gel, two condoms and a vibrating ring. Guests will also be able to request additional toys for special occasions. Those wanting to get a little more risqué can request a kit containing a mask, a whip, and bondage tape.

Here’s a shot of the interior:

Sexy hotels

November 15, 2008

Part of why I wanted to work on Do Not Disturb is that I think hotels are hot. Even if I don’t wind up doing anything sexual in them, just being in a hotel is erotic. It’s new, it’s full of strangers; the atmosphere, to me, simply screams sex. But of course, some hotels are sexier than others. I’d love to hear which hotels push your buttons; you can email me at rachelravenous at gmail.com and I’ll be posting some that have been suggested to me.

Here’s a shot from one called The Five, which I found out about from The Naughty Paris Guide.

The Five in Paris

What makes hotel sex so hot?

November 14, 2008

Shawn Peters puzzles it out in The Boston Globe:

So why is check-in a turn-on? Do hotel chains put pheromones in their air-conditioning units? Is there something in the newness of the location, giving couples a risk-free opportunity to “take their act on the road”? Or is it as simple as the fact that hotels are places where someone else will replenish the linens and even deliver overpriced club sandwiches to your door, creating an atmosphere of freedom that encourages friskiness?

The first time Sara and I ever stayed in a hotel together was toward the end of college, when an older friend from Brandeis got married in New Jersey. We drove down and arrived at an offramp-adjacent Sheraton, knowing that between the ceremony, reception, and our need to drive home first thing in the morning, we might spend less than an hour in the hotel awake. But I remember checking into the hotel, opening the door of our “deluxe” room with a view of the Garden State Parkway, and feeling like carrying Sara over the threshold. It was our honeymoon suite, even though we weren’t the ones getting hitched. It also set a precedent that would be upheld for more than 16 years and counting.

In that time, I’ve tried to figure out what’s behind the “hotel sex” mind-set. When possible to do so without incurring dirty looks or harassment suits, I’ve talked to other couples to see if it was a cultural thing or age specific, but it seems nearly universal. My buddy Matt had a hypothesis that since many couples meet at a time when they are living with roommates or, worse, their families, hotel rooms, with their steel doors and deadbolts, offer a level of privacy they can get nowhere else. After all, there’s no such thing as a “Do not disturb” sign when you’re cohabitating with a bunch of roomies who are privy to every creak of your bedsprings.