I’ve written sex for a while now – five years at least. And I’ve read sex from the first chances I had once I’d found out what it was (see two posts ago).
What I write has always been detailed, explicit and not stinting on evoking the senses of sex – sight, sound, smell, taste and touch. You wish to draw out a powerful response in a reader akin to living through it themselves. That’s what erotica is – it is designed to elicit a physical response, be it a full-on orgasm, or simply a sensual sharing of what the writer has imagined.
I just had a message from somebody who has followed my fan fiction writing to say that she wouldn’t buy my book as it looked like ‘guy porn’. Hmm. She’s perfectly entitled to feel that way, but I admit to feeling a little bemused.
If a guy reads my stories and gets off on them, then great, but I write first and foremost for women, and my publisher expects that. And I don’t consider that I write porn. Yes, much of what I do will have the same effect. In what ways?
a) Porn and erotica are designed to turn you on.
b) Umm …?
c) Struggling for a third …
d) Nope. Just the one.
In what ways are porn and what I and countless other erotica writers do different?
a) Porn has no need for character. It can use character, but character largely becomes redundant once the close-ups of knobs and labia take over. Character is a means of getting to the sex, rather than explaining the sex, or having the sex explain the character.
b) In erotica, the sex reveals plot or relationship or character. Even if it is the dominant force of the narrative, it is at least a force – it drives the story forward. In porn, the narrative sort of stops at the sex.
c) In erotica, sex is precious. It remains something almost sacramental shared between two (or more people). We should never lose touch with that. Be it kinky, vanilla, of questionable motive (albeit consensual), for varying purpose, erotic sex is something to cherish, and hence something which defines us and helps explain us as humans.
So, to the lady who declares that my books look like ‘guy porn’ – maybe read them properly and then decide. I could not and will not write a gratuitous sex scene which does not tap into the very nature of what makes us tick. And all the grunting, grinding, sweating, moaning and thrusting will always remain a gift from me and my fellow erotica writers to our readers. After all, it’s kind of kept humanity going for a few millennia now. Why not celebrate it?
If you wish to celebrate it right now, here’s a little festive fun for you.
The cover may be a garish feast of scarlet whatever, but inside the cover lurk twenty outstanding stories by some of erotica’s top authors, all for the bargain price of 49p or 80 cents. My World War One Christmas ghost story, Willing Spirit, Hungry Flesh, features in there too.
Here’s a little gift from me to you for a rainy day here in the UK. An extract from Exposed:
He kept his word. Just after three, I heard the key card in the lock and The Suit returned to the room.
I had to physically restrain myself from leaping off the bed and wrapping myself around him. Christ, he looked stunning. He was wearing the same Savile Row suit he’d had on that night on the Tube and, despite a day in the heat and dust of New York, he looked as perfectly groomed as ever.
The Suit put down his case and stood at the end of the bed, hands in pockets, feet slightly apart, staring down at me. I could see the shift in his eyes. God, I was wet already.
‘Good afternoon, Mr Lark, how has your day been so far?’ I inquired with a wicked cock of my eyebrow.
I mimicked the tones of the receptionist and drew myself up on my knees, fixing him with my most seductive gaze. ‘Well … sir … is there anything I can do to make your experience more … satisfying?’
His mouth curled up slightly but he still stood as he had been. Then, with aching indolence, he pulled his jacket off one shoulder then the other before placing it on the back of a chair, then tugged his tie slowly from his collar.
‘Miss Kingsley, do not concern yourself with me. You, on the other hand … There is a matter we have yet to address.’
‘Oh?’ I asked coyly. ‘What would that be?’
‘Your behaviour on the aeroplane yesterday.’ He took a step closer to the bed and undid one cuff and then the next before rolling up each sleeve in turn with his skilled and ready fingers.
I creased my brows in mock confusion. ‘What? Did I do something wrong?’
‘Exhibitionism, deliberate provocation, gross sexual licentiousness, excessive craving of pleasure.’ He tutted. ‘I really cannot let that go unchecked.’
He looked steadily at me, his mouth bending up a tantalizing amount. I waited while my breath came fast and my skin prickled with the heat of uncontrolled lust. I wanted his hands on me, in me. I wanted to feel any part of him.
But he made me wait. At last the command came.
‘Turn around, Tara. On your hands and knees.’
Merry Christmas from me to you!