Could it really be a week since I made my bed? Shameless, so what. #haiku
A dog who smiles
And never leaves her side
A hip flask
And straw hats
Freshly picked mint
A good book
And a grinder
A picnic blanket
A little love, here and there
And the most fabulous pair
of Valentino shoes.
The problem with writing Erotica is that you have to think of a million different ways to say the same thing.
‘He walks in, pushes her up against the wall, they kiss. She wraps her legs around him, moaning softly, groaning a little. He lifts her dress, feeling, finding, wet, he’s hard, so good, she reaches for him, all of him, moans, can’t wait, now, in me, go in, please, now, harder, deeper…’
‘She’s on the bed, wearing only her French underwear. He’s watching. She plays. One finger, one, no, two, in her, on her, oh god, can’t wait, legs, thighs, nipples, he watches, he sips, she comes, he stands, undoes his jeans, she pulls him, he, they, oh god, come in me, can’t wait, oh oh, more, now…’
‘He’s cooking. She creeps up quietly behind him, pushes herself against him, hard, urgent. He stops, turns, grabs her, lifts her, yes, jesus, the kitchen table, garlic, onions, rips off her panties, goes in, quickly, deep, oooh, from behind, oh oh, oil splatters, the chicken burns, but more yes yes jesus more, flour, eggs, the ice cream, dammit, god again, harder, deeper…’
Shattering moans, groans, taut nipples, quivering sex, thumping cocks, whipped cream, one finger, two fingers, jesus and god and yes more oh oh no yes please oh my god, harder, deeper, shit, deep no not my ass, hey, my ass, no not my ass, no oh no…
The problem with writing Erotica is that it can be very bloody predictable.
But it can also turn you on, halfway.
‘Which is why you call him, you ask him to come over, now, yes, I want to feel you, against me, in me, come now, open the door, oh fuck, yes, your fingers, your hand, skin, your oh god yes this is really good, yes yes…’
The problem with writing Erotica is that it is impossible to finish writing the bloody stuff.
Maybe that’s a good thing.
1001 unfinished novels.
Each one with a happy sexy ending.
Because I’m too cold to have sex, and also apparently lazy, I’m spending a lot of time under a blanket with a fabulous pile of books.
My laptop’s next to me too, so when a blog on Sex Positions popped into my inbox I immediately put my book down and paid serious attention.
Thirty eight positions, I read. Quite impressive. I wondered how many of them I knew. Or had maybe tried.
The first four were pretty cool and actually, no surprises here. Missionary, doggy style, etc.
Then I got to number five.
First sentence. Face sitting can be very hot.
Yip, I thought immediately. Hot. Sweaty. Like, his crotch in your face and you can’t breathe and you’re already so damn hot and now you’re going to get even hotter and dammit it’s boiling in here and pass the water, fan me, it’s a heatwave, a drought, oh god a heart attack, I’m dying…
Of course as I read on I realised they didn’t mean hot on fire hot. They meant sexy hot, oh my gosh hot, this is so damn good hot, oh yes shove your crotch even deeper please now oh more more god so hot hot I’m coming.
I never got to number six. Sadly I knew these positions were not for me.
I closed my laptop and went back to my book.
A sweet romantic love story. Much safer. Much cooler.
Much easier to cope with.
N.B. Number three also had me like fuck no. And – I glanced at number eighteen. What, how, where is her body?