Seven Best Top Ten Wonders of Erotica
In what I hope will become an occasional series, I have shamelessly pinched an idea that seems to increasingly popular on websites and in magazines these days.
The list. Masquerading as an article.
You see it everywhere – my favorite this, top ten that, best 50 ever… Some of them are hugely entertaining, others less so. But are they sexy? Maybe some are and some aren’t. After all my sexy ain’t the same as your sexy ain’t the same as his…
But now I’m hoping that this little erotica top-ten seven-wonders list that I’m about to compile will hit the sweet spot for at least a few of you. And if it goes well, then I’m going to badger a few of my fellow writers into doing their secret seven twisted ten top sexy stuff lists as well.
No rules – there’s going to be some real life stuff, some excerpts, some hanky panky. In fact, anything goes. It’s my list and I’m making it up as I go along.
So let’s kick off!
Favorite work of erotic art
This is actually too hard and could take up a whole list in its own right. In fact it does. The Huffington Post has beaten me to it and as I’m not sure whether my favorite image on this list is royalty free, I’m just going to give you the link to the whole list! All very tasty – but if I had to pick one, it would be between the Rokeby Venus and L’origine du monde. Yes, I know that’s two but I said at the start this one was too hard! (No pun intended, either time.) Actually, Friendship is pretty hot as well…
Best ever erotic book-song tie in
This one was supposed to be best erotic book. But when I think of my favorite work of erotica, I always start singing… shiny, shiny… Yes, that tune will be stuck in your head all day thanks to The Velvet Underground and Leopold Ritter von Sacher-Masoch. (Actually, do you think he has something to do with Sacher Torte, too? Oh my God, that would be amazing!!!) Anyway, if you haven’t read it, you need to – Venus in Furs.
Sexiest city on the planet
Without a doubt, Paris. Nuff said. And here’s a little excerpt to prove my point (ha ha!):
From an unpublished story, Scaling the Heights:
Hundreds of feet above the city on the second level of the Eiffel Tower is one of Paris’s smartest restaurants, Le Jules Verne. At night, the interior is hardly lit–its décor is the panoramic view of the capital, a carpet of tiny, brilliant lights stretching in every direction. Sebastian ordered champagne and fed me oysters, while I squirmed in my seat, trying to get comfortable on an ass-full of angry welts.
“The most important rule for you to remember,” he murmured, popping an oyster into my mouth, “is that I now control when and where you come.”
His wicked smile caused a tightening of muscles I didn’t even know I had and as I shifted position, I could feel a slick of hot juices sticking me to my coat. We were sitting side by side, facing the extraordinary view, but the pressure of one finger running up the outside of my thigh was doing more to play havoc with my breathing than the fabulous location.
“You have to earn every orgasm through good behavior.”
Underneath the table, his hand pushed the soft black fabric up my thigh. I leant back with my head against the banquette. I couldn’t fight the sensations he was stirring in me. Fingers grazing the soft skin on the inside of my thigh. My mouth drooped open, slack with longing. My eyes were closed.
“Don’t. You. Dare.” There was menace in his voice that carried the threat of punishment.
I wanted to push his hand away because that might be the only way to prevent myself from coming right there in a busy restaurant. But I couldn’t. I was like a startled deer in the glare of the poacher’s headlamps. Sebastian had me presumably where he wanted me–wanting him, wanting this to never end.
I gasped at a sudden freezing sensation pushing up into the cleft between my legs, high up into my pussy.
“An ice cube?”
Sebastian laughed as I rifled under my serviette to retrieve it.
“You needed cooling down a little.”
I opened my mouth to speak but he put a finger up to seal my lips.
“You’ve got to earn it. Don’t be a bad girl.”
Licking chocolate dacquoise off his fingers didn’t help either.
Outside the restaurant, the cool air felt like a salve and as we took in the view of the city from the second level of the tower, I wondered with some trepidation what the rest of the evening held in store. I wasn’t at all sure I wanted to be his sub after the previous night but at the same time, I couldn’t bear the thought of waving Sebastian goodbye. Through the fine fabric of the trench coat I felt his hand skimming my buttocks; my stomach flipped and I turned to face him so he could read the need in my face.
“Come,” he said.
He led me over to where the elevators departed for the top of the tower, another five hundred feet above us. After a couple of minutes, the lift doors opened in front of us and he ushered me into the small glass car. A woman made a move to join us but Sebastian barred her way with his arm.
“Please take the next elevator,” he said.
She frowned but stepped back. The doors slid shut and, with a sound of grinding gears, we started our slow ascent.
“Now we scale the heights,” said Sebastian, tugging at the belt of my coat. “I’ve got precisely one minute and forty seconds to make you come.”
Best view from the bed
Am I talking about your lover’s ass as they wander by or the view out of your floor-to-ceiling panoramic windows? I can’t decide. How about your lover’s ass framed by the New York skyline or caught between the twin peaks of the Pitons on St Lucia? Or maybe it’s the Eiffel Tower…
Hotel sex – always better
And why is that? Perhaps it’s because you’ve come away with someone you hardly know but you’re desperately in lust with. Or maybe you’ve just fallen in love and you’re both hiding from the world. Then, after years together, a night of luxury, champagne and chocolates can rekindle the fires of your youth… A hotel room is undoubtedly a splendid place for red hot, never to be forgotten sexual encounters. With the added bonus that someone else has to make the bed in the morning!
And the best hotel for sex?
I can’t answer that as I haven’t tried them all yet!
Sex on the sand
Probably not to be recommended – too gritty. But it works in fiction…
From Beach Heat:
‘I’ve got cold beer in the trunk of my car,’ he said. ‘Shall we go get some?’
Ten minutes later we were climbing a rise of bleached wooden steps that led up into the dunes, him with a cool box and me carrying a faded tartan blanket that had also been in his car. He seemed to know where he was going and even when the gravelled pathway petered out, he wound up and down and round the grassy, sandy knolls as if with sense of purpose. Mostly the dunes were deserted, but we came across a couple of families with picnics laid out in sunny hollows that were sheltered from the wind, and then a pair of guys who’d obviously come there seeking out privacy.
I followed him silently and soon the only sounds were the matching slip-slaps of our flip flops hitting our heels as we walked and the call of gulls wheeling overhead. Then, in a deep, secluded hollow between three high dunes, he stopped and looked around.
‘Our palace,’ he said, pushing the cool box into the sand in a small area that was shaded by dune grass.
I took a deep breath and smiled. All I could see was golden sand, billowing green grass and a sky that was as blue as Scott’s eyes.
I unfurled the blanket in the bottom of the hollow and heard Scott popping the cap off a couple of bottles behind me. As I turned to face him, he passed me one and the touch of his hand against mine was an electric current.
‘Come on,’ he said, dropping down to sit on the blanket and we clinked our bottles together as I sat down next to him.
The beer was icy cold, delicious; slipping down my throat. The sun above so bright that I had to close my eyes. I leant back on elbows and let my head fall back, just feeling the sun on my hot skin as the beer went from cold to a warm buzz deep inside me.
‘You’re beautiful,’ Scott whispered in my ear.
Then there was a shock of cold on my belly. I gasped and opened my eyes. Scott was resting the base of his beer bottle on my stomach, laughing at my reaction.
‘Wait,’ I said.
I lay right back till my stomach was flat and then carefully poured beer from my own bottle into the indentation of my belly button. I shivered with the cold but Scott understood immediately what I wanted him to do. As his lips touched my skin and I felt his tongue dipping into the hollow, another shiver ran through me, of quite a different kind. And as he lapped up the beer, muscles deep inside me contracted, letting me know their demands that would have to be met.
Scott’s hand snaked round my back and, with a deft one-handed move that left me in no doubt of his prowess, he had my bikini top undone. His mouth was cold against the heat of my nipples and they immediately stood out proud in response to his tongue as he circled first one and then the other. My back arched as my breasts pushed forward to meet his mouth and a flutter of delight shot through me as I felt one of his hands come to rest low on my stomach. Then he took a sip of beer and brought his mouth to mine. His tongue pushed between my lips with a flood of cold liquid, the most exquisite combination. As I swallowed the beer he explored my mouth with his tongue and my body with his hands. He tasted amazing. In turn my tongue hungrily pushed back into his mouth, passing over his smooth cold teeth, wrapping itself against his tongue in a moment of glorious, sexy intimacy.
Sexiest voice. There’s no contest.
Sex on wheels
Ever done it on a train?
From Underground Encounter, my story in Smut in the City.
As the train pulled out of the station, the boy’s eyes locked mine in a lingering gaze. I ran my tongue around the edge of my lips; those brown eyes were making me hungry. I’d found my target and from the way he was looking at me, I had a feeling that maybe things would work out. If he didn’t try and get out at the next stop…
His eyes slid down to the V-shape made by the collar of my coat, to the tiny crack of cleavage it showed. Self-consciously I put a hand to my neck, pulling at one side of the collar as I scratched an imaginary itch on my shoulder. His stare was unremitting, his eyes two limpid brown pools that were starting to play havoc with my breathing. I slowly looked away but my heart carried on pounding, almost loud enough for me to hear, and it was more than I could do to avert my eyes for long. His wide mouth, even unsmiling, drew my gaze back to his face.
Suddenly he leant forward with his elbows on his knees.
‘What’s your name?’ he asked softly.
His breath smelt pleasantly of alcohol and as I spoke I could see his tongue was stained dark from drinking red wine.
I leant forwards too, letting my coat fall open. His eyes dropped down to my breasts, sculpted to perfection in a black lace bustier Tina had leant me.
I put a finger across my lips.
He nodded and swooped across to sit in the seat next to mine. Our eyes locked and I could feel sexual tension thickening the air between us.
No, please don’t tell us you’ve done it on the back of a horse!
No, I haven’t. But one of my characters has! Tragically, however, I’ve run out space…