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Tuesday, November 14, 2006

On erotica

If I were to ever teach a course on erotic writing (which I may now have the courage and insight to do, if anyone's interested), one of my first assigments would be to write a totally HOT erotica story with no sex in it. Some of my favorites that I've written are like that - "What If?" and "Lap Dance Lust," namely.

I just wrote an erotica story, after failing to finish any of my half-started ones for a few weeks, that I'm really proud of. For one of the first times I wasn't using first person, and I realized that because of that, I could get into the guy's head too. The two characters are strangers, but they didn't have to be strangers to me. And the woman in the story, Kate, didn't have to know the things that I, and the reader knew. It changed the entire course of the story and forced me to look at her from his point of view, which I think is also helpful in real life, especially when things get heated (both sexy heated and angry heated).

I am really happy with it - it's a submission to an anthology, so I hope it gets picked up, but I wanted to share a snippet. I was stalled on it and then finally it sortof flowed, and I may try my hand at third person again in the future. I also had originally planned to have them get i on in the actual story but realized that I had no need to; their foreplay and dirty talk is so hot it would almost be overkill to have them fuck on the page. But make no mistake, they will get together.

Now, I know this may not be how all guys think, but I realized while writing that that doesn't matter. All that matters is whether it's how my character thinks. And of course, since I'm holding the strings, I can make them complementary. I know, this is probably very basic Fiction 101 stuff, but I'm so excited. I am going to be doing lots of writing exercises as I write my novel and try to really figure out not just what happens to my protagonist, but who she is. Right now I only have a vague idea.

So here's a brief snippet from midway through my story. We've mostly heard from Kate up to this point, and Corey clearly wanted to be heard. I don't write male voices all that often but when I do it's a lot of fun and was especially so here because I went back and forth between them.

Corey's cock, which had been half-hard, stiffened fully as he pressed harder against her wrist. He saw plenty of women in the middle of, or nearing the end of, what looked like killer days. They stumbled in hoping to drown, or further, their sorrows, their eyes often already sunken as they looked up at him pleadingly, seeking some relief from the relentless pressure of living. They wanted to surrender to him, to let him take over, to give up any shred of responsibility, and blame waking up in the morning with sore nipples and no panties on his evil beverages. He went along with it, because that was his job, but he wasn't proud of the women he'd let seduce him knowing full well their pussies were swollen with whiskey or vodka, not desire.

But this chick had something different—a flash in her eyes, a hint about her mouth—that had nothing to do with the color they were painted. She didn't just look like she'd give a good blowjob, but like she needed to, like she was the kind of woman who, at the very sight of a cock, simply opened up inside to make room for it. The kind of girl who'd be wiping tears from her cheeks when she pulled her mouth off his dick, only for him to find her pussy a puddle of slickness when he touched it. Kate had that look, one he'd only encountered once before, a long time ago. Most of the girls he dated were more than willing to get down on their knees before him, but always with a price. It was quid pro quo or nothing. Not that he minded eating pussy; in fact, he often had to beg to keep going long after his dates were ready to move on. But he knew there was a difference between girls who were willing to give head and girls who needed to, girls for whom blowjobs were a fun form of foreplay and for whom they were an essential item on their personal sex menu. Girls who would rather not talk about it, silently wrapping their lips around his cock and just sucking, sucking, sucking, as steady as a machine, and girls who screamed and moaned and murmured against his shaft, girls who would go down on him anywhere, everywhere, who simply couldn't get enough. Nora had been like that, so long ago, and as he felt Kate's pulse race and her lips widened ever-so-slightly, she reminded him of his ex.

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