We’re In It Together

“You seem to have a habit of getting your Hero and Heroine together like this,” my OPIL (Occasional Partner in Lust) told me upon reading my latest finished story. I had to admit the accusation had some merit, though not overly much as it happened only a few times. But they came together in that manner because it made a better story – and that’s what we want, isn’t it, to put out the better story? (I’m sure to get an earful when that certain someone reads this post, but hey, this is my post, I’m writing it, and I’m operating under something called “Creative Licence”. Creative Licence is granted to storytellers allowing them to prevaricate at will. Quite useful, really. Take that, OPIL!)

So, how do people get together? My experience, first and second hand, shows them finding each other at work, in a course, volunteering at the same place, with interests in common. My OPIL and I got together through the Internet – with interests in common. I liked to write, my OPIL liked to read and liked my writing. A ‘fan letter’ followed. A couple of years later we got together – a kind of slow-motion “You’ve Got Mail”. But there was nothing dramatic about it. We weren’t unknowing competitors trying to shut each other down. So, it wouldn’t make a good story. Were I writing it, I’d change various aspects, creating more conflict. Were I living it again, I’d change a few different things, doing away with some of the conflict that did exist. The latter would make the poorer story, but the better life.

I once went out with someone I met in a foreign land whilst on vacation. We both were English-speaking, while around us the native-born spoke another language. That gave us something in common right there. We may never have become friends or dated had we met in an English-speaking country. However, there in the heart of Foreignville, we were “in it together”. Yes, we were two souls who could freely converse with each other in a place where communicating took a lot of effort on our part – and a lot of patience on the part of our victims, as we mangled their language. The romance did not survive the return to our own lives back home. That was partly due to distance, partly to other factors, but the biggest part of it was we were no longer “in it together”.

In one of the forums I’m a member of, another member reported finding a mistreated cat and taking it to the vet. Apart from the disgust I felt at even the idea of anyone so mistreating a cat, I just naturally thought: here’s a perfect way to get two people together. It could be the finder of the cat and the Vet, it could be the finder of the cat and its owner. They would be “in it together” on account of their love for cats, and this cat in particular.

That’s the writer in me coming out, using real life as inspiration for a story. But I won’t write that story. Why not? Because I already have. Scars. I discussed that book in a previous post last year (http://onehandedwriters.com/2013/08/29/scars/), but it can stand in this one as well, as that other time didn’t concern the meeting of characters.

In Scars, my characters get together because of the cat and because of the scars they share – damage done by life. They find that they are “in it together”, and that can form the basis of a long-term relationship.

Being “in it together” for just the sex doesn’t carry the same emotive weight, and one can see it as a reason to get together – lust – but not really one for staying together. The joy of sharing the same kink, however, changes things. Not enough, in my estimation, but it adds to any initial attraction.

Keeping your characters “in it together” allows them to grow in significant ways. However, once – like my vacation romance – the two find they are no longer “in it together”, the chances are that they will part. As writers, we just have to find new reasons or situations for them to share interest. As readers, we rely on our favourite authors to provide just that.

Right now, my cat and I are in it together. We both want something to eat. Let the refrigerator beware!

And that’s the view from the Deltonian dimension.

Live well,

Delta (who also writes as Echo Chambers)

* * *

Echo Chambers’ books

Delta’s Books

Hachette Authors Cry Censorship – Welcome to My World!

92583Hachette authors are crying “censorship!”

Ursula K. Le Guin has been quoted as saying, “We’re talking about censorship: deliberately making a book hard or impossible to get, ‘disappearing’ an author.”

Welcome to my world, Ms. Le Guin. Were you among the authors who, years ago when Amazon started banning erotica, slapping on the adult filter, making it generally difficult to find, who said, “Hey, listen, you whiners! Amazon is a corporation! Amazon can do what they want! It’s THEIR store! If they don’t want this filth on their site, then more power to them!” I hope you weren’t. Because that would make you an awful hypocrite right now.

And honestly, Ms. Le Guin, you haven’t seen anything yet. You have NO idea what Amazon can do to you and your book(s) to kill your sales. You’re only getting a tiny little taste of what’s possible. You should see what it’s like from over here, in the erotica red light district, where we’re stomped on daily, for no reason whatsoever. Our books our disappeared, our accounts are blocked and banned. Have you ever been making $30,000 a month on Amazon, only to see that dry up practically overnight? I know erotica authors this has happened to. Have you ever released a book, had it hit Amazon’s top 10, only to have it blocked, with no reason given other than it violates some vague Amazon guideline? I know erotica authors who have had to deal with that too.

Honestly, Ms. Le Guin, and all the rest of the Hachette authors, I get it. It royally sucks when Amazon decides to bring its jackboot down on your neck. I’ve been there, done that – have been doing it for the past five years, thank you very much. This is why I cried “censorship!” back then. This is why I tried to get other authors to rally around erotica authors and their books. But do you know what I got? Crickets. Either that, or I heard, “Stop whining, Amazon is a corporation and can do what they want! It isn’t censorship unless the government is doing it, so shut up!”

Well guess what? Here it is, five years later, and Amazon is now turning the tables on traditionally published authors. They’re taking away all the fancy bells and whistles you’re used to getting because you publish with legacy. Trust me when I tell you that I’m tempted to just laugh in your face. Or to say, “I told you so!” But I know what that’s like. I know what it’s like to be beaten down time and again, with no recourse, no way to fight back. You can make all the petitions you like. You can even get Stephen King and James Patterson to appeal to the mass media. But you aren’t going to win.

How do I know? Because I’ve lived under Amazon’s regime and have been subject to their thug tactics a lot longer than you have.

The reality of this fight is that Hachette is going to have to adapt or die. And I’m afraid they’re heading for the latter. Instead of screaming at Amazon – which isn’t going to do you any good and is only going to make you hoarse – I am going to tell you, from a very long, arduous experience with Amazon’s stronghold on the market, that you’d better do the same, authors. Adapt or die. Erotic writers have had to do a LOT of adapting in the past five years, and I imagine we’ll have to do a lot more in the future. But that’s part of the business. We’re used to it. We know that Amazon is a retailer, they’re out to make money, and we’re simply a means to their end. And the fact is, we’re replaceable. And, Ms. Le Guin (and all the other Hachette authors) SO. ARE. YOU.

Don’t think for a minute that because you’ve sold X amount of books, Amazon cares about you. In the end, you’re expendable, and if you (or your publishing company) don’t want to sell books to Amazon on Amazon’s terms, well – there are plenty of authors lined up behind you who will. Books aren’t “special” simply because they’re books. And you aren’t special simply because you write them. Trust me when I tell you that there are plenty of talented people in the world who can write books. And many of them are leaner, hungrier and smarter than you are. Many of them have already begun self-publishing and making a name for themselves as the higher echeleon of legacy publishing crumbles.

So my advice to you, Hachette authors, coming from someone who has had Amazon’s hand around my throat more than once — is adapt or die. You can cry censorship all you like – I have, and will continue to do so. You can stomp your foot and say, “It’s not fair!” And you’re right, it isn’t. But life isn’t fair. That’s one of the first things we learn, right? Complaining about Amazon’s tactics, signing petitions, it’s all well and good, but it’s not going to change anything.

The fact remains that the face of publishing is changing. The writing is on the wall – and it’s about time you started reading it and paying attention to it, instead of trying to run from it.

Adapt or die, authors. Your mommy publisher isn’t going to do it for you.



Selena Kitt
Erotic Fiction You Won’t Forget
www.selenakitt.com
LATEST RELEASE: Highland Wolf Pact
180+ Amazon Reviews – 4.8 Stars!
highlandwolfpactMED

Introducing Myself

sexygirl Hi everyone!  ((waves))

My name is Sienna Stapleton and as you all probably know I’m new here.  I just wanted to take a moment to thank M. Keep and the rest of the bloggers here for allowing me to join this wonderful little group.

Now a little about me.  Like I said, my name is Sienna Stapleton and I write BBW romance.  Yes, you heard me correctly, I write romance, not erotica.  So, why did I decide to join an erotica blog if I don’t write erotica?  Mostly because while I read romance I also sometimes read erotica.  So in my head it only made sense for me to join.

Besides, while I love to write about every day women finding their true love, I also enjoy throwing in a bit of spice.  There’s no better way to boost a woman’s self-esteem than to sandwich her between two sexy alpha males or have one ultra sexy dominant take control in the bedroom.

As a closet submissive I love adding a bit of kink to my stories.  Not all of them have BDSM in them, but many have some level of dominance and submission to them.  After all, big girls have fantasies too.

While I enjoy writing about BBW and their sexual fantasies, it’s also important to me to try and keep my stories steeped in a certain amount of reality. So you won’t find me writing about vampires or shifters.  There are plenty of great authors out there writing about shifters.  Celia Kyle comes to mind. InsteFBFWad, I want readers to identify with my stories, to be able to see themselves in the heroines and be able to live vicariously through her.

I’m thrilled to be here and you all will come to find out, I have plenty to say.  In the meantime, if you haven’t read any of my titles, please consider checking out Reckless Curves (book 1 in the Reckless Curves series). Rekindled.

It’s free.

If NASCAR isn’t your speed consider checking out my latest release If you do, let me know what you think and if you really like my work, please consider friending me on FB or following me on Twitter. I’ll see you in two weeks!

Erotic Roleplay in MMORPGs

If you know me, or have known me, for any bit of time, you should know that I love erotic roleplay in my MMORPGs. Not just that, but that’s what inspired my first bouts of real storytelling and seriously exploring a lot of the kinks that I have that I wasn’t sure I was actually into or not.

I’ve spoken with a lot of people recently who have confessed to me that they used to write erotic fanfiction as they were growing up as a way of dealing with and exploring their own sexuality and sexual desires at a time when it wasn’t something that you could talk about. When we’re a teenager, we just don’t have the language to express what we think would be sexy and what we don’t and why. It’s just all foreign concepts.

Young Nude Woman on Bed with ComputerAs I got older, and into my mid-twenties, I had a fairly good grasp of what I liked, and my husband still teases me that I have a very masculine interest in sex and sexuality. I’m not big on foreplay and teasing and romance, but I love hard, gruff, emotionally charged sex. Most of the things I know I like, I know because of erotic roleplay.

So now I’m back in the world of Guild Wars 2, and I’m still doing the same things I was doing when I was a teenager – exploring my boundaries and limits in a safe and open minded environment. Really, it’s so thrilling and exciting to be able to figure this stuff out with so little pressure, so few constraints.

I’ve been incredibly lucky to find some absolutely fantastic roleplayers in game, and I’ve always intended to keep an open mind. Your Kink may not be My Kink, but I’m going to try it out to make sure, in this completely safe way. I mean, that’s the only way to really figure out your own limits, though in the bygone years before the internet, there was a higher risk to this level of exploration.

So, sure, I’ll domme you. My chick will wear clothes and force your guy to beg for forgiveness, so utterly, beautifully naked. Or another character will plead for you to hurt her, to punish her. Another may want it rough, but treasure the soft kisses that follow. Or become a pet to another.

I’ll try it all out, get a feel for what works for me and what doesn’t, and I’ll keep doing it until I figure it out.

Some people think of erotic roleplay as nothing more than something to get turned on by, something quick and cheap and tawdry.

But for me, it’s almost a spiritual experience, one that teaches me things about myself that I’d never know otherwise. It’s opening up another person’s innermost private sanctum, revealing it to me before we part ways again, as if nothing ever happened. As if something so personal was never shared.

Isn’t that something amazing? That connection, that bonding, forged between people in such brief little snippets, allowing them into parts that otherwise would be closed off to the world, to even some of their closest and more treasured friends?

Erotic roleplay is crafting a story, working in sexuality into a world that tends to lack it in their desire to not be branded as a romance, or worse, erotica. Fantasy games and entertainment so often lack that spark that makes people whole, and erotic roleplay gives us a way to tease it out of our own characters, and at the same time experience something new and different.

Corrupted Hearts Our latest novel, Corrupted Hearts, started out originally as inspired by erotic roleplay in the expansive Dungeons and Dragons world. It grew into something so much more unique and interesting as it went along, following two winged beings as they struggled to find meaning and a reason to trust in their relationship. It’s a story that we’ve wanted to tell for so long, and it was just released earlier this week. You can get it now for only $1.

So, yea, I’m a big fan of erotic roleplay in MMORPGs, and in sexual exploration through literature and writing in general. If you are too, you might enjoy Darknest Fantasy Erotica, our website dedicated to fantasy erotica, especially in video games. As well, our penname J.M. Keep houses many intense and erotic shorts, set in Scifi or Fantasy Realms. Come see what we’ve figured out so far.

Seven Best Top Ten Wonders of Erotica…

Seven Best Top Ten Wonders of Erotica

 Hi,

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…

 

16711469_sBest 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.”

“But I…”

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 bed15315266_s

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.

‘It’s perfect.’

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.

Listen.

 

Sex on wheelsSmut City

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.

‘Shhhhh…’

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…

 

 

Finding the romance in a BDSM club

At the Swingers' Club by Polly J AdamsMy current work in progress presented an interesting challenge for me. Some of my most successful stories such as The Billionaires’ Sex Club and At The Swingers’ Club have featured sex clubs and BDSM, but while they’ve been plot-driven they’ve also been explicit erotica, published under my Polly J Adams pen-name.

When the invitation came to write something for a romance boxed set that features a BDSM club, it seemed a no-brainer for me to say ‘yes’ at first. It was only later that I started to wonder about how it would actually work. Romance can be explicit, of course, but the key difference is that it’s about the relationship, not just the sex.

A relationship story in a setting that, by its nature, would be explicit…? The more I thought about it, the more I realized I hadn’t actually written anything quite like this before. And what’s more, I couldn’t get my head around how I might tackle it!

The more I investigated BDSM clubs (I do love the research aspect of my job!), the more it confirmed my own hands-on experience that people tend to, erm, specialize. That’s perfect for erotica, and even some kinds of romance, but it just wasn’t sparking the ideas for me.

So I stepped back from it all and tried a different approach.

One of the main reasons I started writing erotica and erotic romance was the exploration aspect. There are a few kinks I come back to, but more than anything I love trying different things – in life as well as in fiction. My characters tend to be strong women who are faltering or who have ended up at a point in life where they realize they need to reassess.

And that’s when I hit on my approach to this new story: it’s not about a particular kink, it’s about Julie, a young woman who is exploring not just her sexuality, but her life and what she wants. She’s still dealing with the end of a relationship where she was tightly controlled: both in real life and at the Club Extraordinaire she was the sub to his dom. Now, without him, she realizes that she still wants to keep the Club in her life but now there’s so much more to explore.

All of a sudden, Club Extraordinaire came alive for me: it was the place where Julie could explore her sexuality but also it was the center of her explorations of who she actually was and what she wanted.

Nothing is simple, of course, and when she gets involved with a mysterious stranger she knows she will have to deal with how this new relationship will be affected by her other life at the Club.

It ended up as a short novel under my PJ Adams romance pen-name, more explicit than my other romance but retaining that focus on characters and their relationships, and with plenty of twists and turns along the way. Once I had hit on the right approach, I had a whale of a time writing it, and I hope that energy comes across to readers.

Escape will be published in early November as part of the Club Alpha boxed set, along with novels by Selena Kitt, Alanis Knight, Terry Towers and nine more fabulous authors.

Sexy Smells: The Musky Sweetness of Her, Um, Musk

I’ve written here before about descriptions of scent in erotica, which may or may not point to a bit of an obsession on my part?

I’m for them, at any rate. I think smell is much too important a part of the real-world sexual experience to leave it out of written imitations.

Only one problem: we don’t have a lot of words for the way bodies smell!

Lots of words for bad smells, of course. But cum? Female arousal? Those are not easy things to describe.

I’m obsessing because, as my catalog grows, I’m noticing repetitive themes, and that in turn has me hunting down repetitive word usage.

musk-cologneOffender No. 1? “Musky,” almost without a doubt.

It’s a good word for sex-smells, and I’ll defend it heartily against critics. “Musk” combines biological reality (“this thing smells like a bodily secretion”) with positive associations (luxury and perfumes). That it could also be used to describe a rabbit cage in need of cleaning is unfortunate, but not, to my mind, disqualifying.

Problem being, you can only use it so many times in a book, much less in one paragraph. And what else can you use to describe that potent, thoroughly erotic smell of wet pussy? I’ve seen “sweet,” which is romantic but not particularly accurate — fish jokes aside, cunt is more savory than it is sweet, no matter what you’ve been eating. “Sweaty,” while accurate, has to be used carefully to avoid being off-putting, and “earthy” implies an old, stale dampness that I don’t find very complimentary.

Cum and male crotches in general run into the same basic problem: “sweet” isn’t a very realistic description, and all your other options have locker room associations that aren’t sexy outside of a deliberately raunchy theme.

Consider this a plea for feedback: what are your favorite smell-words for sexy business? Your least favorite? And why? Inquiring minds want to know!

Secrets

Secrets, we all have them.

Things we don’t want anyone else to know.

Things we keep to ourselves, to protect us, to protect others. Big, small, silly, heartbreaking, secrets run the gamut. Some we’d be better off sharing, exposing to the light. Some, not so much.

So what do you do when you need to tell your secret? To someone, anyone? Sometimes just saying it out loud helps. Hearing your own words, aimed at your reflection in the mirror, aimed at a higher power, aimed at the dog.

Sometimes we tell a stranger, which is often so much easier than telling someone we love. Sometimes we tell the whole damn world, by way of the internet, things that the one sitting beside you on the couch still doesn’t know even as you type it beside them.

Secrets about why we read what we read, why we write what we write. Things that almost slip off the tongue, but that are caught instead, and swallowed back down.

When I was young, I wanted the ability to read minds as a super power. As I’ve gotten older, I realized that it wouldn’t be a super power, it would be a curse. Now, I’d pick flying. Sometimes, with the top down on a nice day, the music blaring, driving a bit faster than I should, I come close.

And yet when you come home, windblown, exhilarated, your secret is still a secret, because wherever you go, there you are.

Postsecret.com Where secrets are told for one week, and then disappear forever. (If I could get the damned link button to highlight itself, I’d link it. Guess you’ll have to work for it instead. :) )

Postsecretarchive.com where some, but not all collect.

I mailed one, once. And I watched the website. It never showed up, maybe the mailman took it home, or I missed the week it sat there, exposed.

Totally unrelated, honestly- Alpha Bitten, my first shifter short, is free through today, Tuesday 10/14, on Amazon.

FREE 10/10-10/14

FREE 10/10-10/14

 

 

We are experiencing technical difficulties – please stand by.

A year ago we bought the domain “Onehandedwriters.com” from WordPress. Due to lack of notification from WordPress, our yearly rental came up (the day before I was to post) unnoticed and, because we hadn’t paid, we lost the site for most of a day. Our abject apologies.

Unfortunately, upon the return of our site, I noted that we seemed to have lost almost a year’s worth of posts, which is most unfortunate. After posting, and then contacting others, I found I was the only one missing the year’s worth of posts. On the other hand, I could see my post (from different computers and different browsers) but they couldn’t. Technical glitches abounded. Now, I too, can see all the posts – except my last. I’m reposting it now ’cause it’s an empty day, and it looks like no one has posted since the 4th. (Well I did, and others may have, but they are not showing up. So, I’ll give it another shot. It may all work out in the end.) So, if it looks like you’ve seen much of this post before, well you may very well have.

So, as long as we are suffering with technical glitches, I might well tell you that technical glitches also come up in writing. I’m editing a novel where the author has a scene where a character (we’ll call him John Doe) engages in something that is going to last a set period (we’ll say one week). The author then moves on to other characters in the novel who use several scenes to do two weeks worth of activities. Then the story returns to John, who finishes with his one-week job thus throwing the time-line of the story-telling off. Solution: either move John’s second scene to an earlier spot in the book or change the one-week job into a two-week job. [You can sometimes get away with having the jogs in time, but not in this particular case.]

In my novella “Strip Chess”, Jen and Bill play a game of chess, where the pieces represent articles of clothing. Once the victor removes that article of clothing he (or she) can fondle whatever it covered while the opponent tries to make a move (thus distracting said opponent). Taking a pawn allows a further distraction period. With 32 pieces and pawns to deal with, as well as multiple items of clothing coming off or staying on, the story was ripe for ‘technical glitches’.

To avoid those, while writing the novella I had a chessboard on my desk near the computer. Whenever Jen or Bill took a piece or pawn, I removed that piece or pawn from the chessboard so that I wouldn’t have Bill taking three of Jen’s Bishops, for example. [For those who don’t play chess, each side has only two Bishops.] I also had to leave enough pieces on the board so that a checkmate could be achieved.

I think the story turned out rather hot, but while writing it I had to alternate between being involved in the story and keeping a critical eye on the chessboard to keep track of what each character had left in terms of clothes, and in terms of what could still be taken yet allow the final checkmate. Sometimes it more fun to just be the reader.

So, technical glitches happen both in the writing of books and in real life. We’re hoping that this real-life one with the site has resolved itself as easily as moving a scene in a book to an earlier chapter. If not, and this post also disappears into the intertubes, well, we’ll just keep on keeping on and encourage you to keep coming back. Eventually you’re bound to read something one of us puts up.

Delta (who also writes as Echo Chambers)

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Echo Chambers’ books

Delta’s Books