A few days ago I wrote about masturbation.. A popular topic, it seems. Today I’m writing about sex in public. One thing distinctly private, the other … not.
I was doing some research into criminal offences for a novel I’m writing and noticed ‘voyeurism and exhibitionism’ ranked as offences.
I knew having sex in public was illegal, but to see it listed alongside more serious offences such as burglary and assault on a public information site was a bit daunting.
I write about sex in public all the time. It motivates Tara, the protagonist of Spontaneous. So, yes, I’m writing about a technically illegal activity, but when my characters do it, they’re very careful about the actual concept of ‘in public’. They’re not going to be going for it where it’s obvious or is going to be seen by anyone who doesn’t want to see.
I’ve often talked about illicit sex being the biggest turn on. There’s sometimes a fine line between illicit and illegal. It’s up to us as writers to tread that line carefully while still testing the boundaries of what is right and acceptable. What is more exhilarating than reaching orgasm, letting yourself go completely, losing yourself, in an environment where you are supposed to do the opposite? That is the appeal of public sex. It breaks the convention of expectations. And there is nothing sexier than the unexpected.
At one point in Spontaneous, Tara has sex with a stranger in a supermarket. If she’s discovered, she’ll spend a night in prison, if not longer. To her, it’s worth the risk. The fantastic thing about erotica is that you can experience it without actually having to take the risk yourself.
Read it and see.
Here’s the teeniest little teaser from when Tara comes and stands right next to a suitable stranger in a nearly empty late-opening supermarket.
At first I didn’t move. I just stood so that the heat and aura of my body pervaded him. I picked up some duct tape and studied it, running my hand over the packaging as if it was a precious and fragile ornament . I could feel his eyes burning into me. I half-expected him to step away but he didn’t. I reached across him for a plug, letting my arm brush against his hip in the process. Still, he remained.
And then, when the elements of erotic tension had combined to near combustion, after ensuring I was masked from prying camera lenses, I slipped my hand up under my skirt, obviously , blatantly, turning my eyes up to him as I did so. His features creased in amazement briefly and his mouth dropped open, but still he didn’t move. He stood, transfixed, his eyes dropping to my hand as I worked my fingers over my sex. Christ, I was dripping. I’d waited days, after all. I gasped in at the first touch on my clit and my upper teeth instinctively closed on my lower lip.
It gets better, trust me. You can find out for the price of a bar of chocolate. Just as much fun, but no calories. 😉