Posts Tagged ‘Erotica’

Titillating Tuesday

Posted on: November 15th, 2016 by Madison Lake No Comments

Excerpt from the chapter Arousal in Willow Wisp, book three of a series

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Proberta and Brawn didn’t find their aging affected their sexual appetites. If anything, things between the sheets—or other places—got better as time passed. They grew to know each other’s bodies well and rather than get bored, they discovered new sweet spots and found different ways to find pleasure with each other. Just as they had done in the early days when Proberta stayed as a guest in Brawn’s hut, they’d sneak off to the woods to make soft, sensual love among the mossy beds of the forest floor. Other times, when they knew no one was around, Brawn would press his wife up against the kitchen counter, his burly arms holding her fast. He’d lift her skirts, lower her pantaloons and eagerly thrust inside her warm and waiting opening. Both enjoyed gentle lovemaking as much as the heightened arousal from rough and tumble sex, and knew they would continue till their dying days.

It was one of these balmy afternoons when, after an intensely passionate roll in the hay, a knock came at the door. Brawn went to answer, hoping to get rid of whoever was there so he and his wife could continue with their lusty frolicking. There stood a tall, handsome young man with a muscular jawline, large blue eyes and a very blond hair tied back in a neat ponytail. He was dressed like a gentleman; tweed jacket and neckerchief, tall brown leather boots, woolen knickers, but his handshake was strong and firm, his palms and knuckles calloused from heavy work. It left Brawn wondering who in the world this fellow could be.

“Hello good chap. What are you doing in these parts, and what is it I can do for you?”

“Greetings to you, good Sir. You are Brawn from the forest glen, are you not?”

“That is right. I am that man. And how is it you know me?”

“I do not know you, Sir. But you have an excellent reputation in these parts. I am from the north and have come looking for work. The bartender at the local pub was kind enough to give me your name and send me here.”

Brawn looked the lad over and thought about what he said. It was true, he knew his reputation was solid in the community, but he was a little surprised that Docket would give away his personal information, in particular where he lived, to a stranger, regardless his station in life.

“Excuse me for prying, but you don’t seem the type cut out for woodsman’s work dressed in your high class clothes and all.” With this the young man laughed.

“I clean up well, Sir.” He winked. “Besides, one must look presentable when seeking work, no matter what kind of work one is after.” This time Brawn laughed too. He opened the door and welcomed the young man inside.

“Name’s Heath. Jeremiah Heath.” Jeremiah took a seat at the table and after putting the kettle on to boil for tea, Brawn sat across from him. “Excuse me for saying so, but I have never seen a man boil water for tea before. It’s quite different where I come from. The woman does those tasks.”

“Actually, I believe it’s quite different in this small community than in most places. We are our own people here.” Brawn paused and rubbed his scruffy chin with his calloused fingers. “Don’t get me wrong. We’re educated and mannered and love our family more than anything else, but I guess you’d say we have our own set of rules on how to live, that’s all.”

“Oh, I know. I’ve heard all about you folks. Why else do you think I sought you out?”

At this point Proberta came out of the bedroom, fastening her apron around her small waist.

“I thought I heard a commotion. Who’s this come calling and waking up our afternoon?” Her face glowed with the pinch of recent passion—rosy cheeks and a wide smile.

Excerpt from The Party, from Boudoir Stories    

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* * * * * *

They hadn’t made love right away, but had driven out to the beach to watch the sunrise. Foreplay. They sat in the car and enjoyed the break of day together until normal breathing became almost unbearable, touching unstoppable.

They chose the car over the white sand with cattails that blew softly in the breeze. It was just sex, she had reminded.

As Sabrina writhed and arched over the 6-speed gear shift, slid her lust across the taupe leather seats, Dawson groped like a lost boy. Dawn’s first light bore in through the windshield. Her breasts were hard as melons, probably fake but it made no difference to him. He squeezed them.

Her panties, already down around her knees, left nothing for him to do but reach in, feel her readiness. And so was he. Unbuttoned, he sprang forth, quivered with desire, pushed to enter. A pile of condoms spilled from the dashboard onto the floor. Out of reach. Taunting. He made a move for them. She grabbed him, pulled him close. Demanding. He reached again but she stopped him, placed his outstretched hand on the soft of her inner thigh, pressed it into her wetness. Tongue in ear.

“It doesn’t matter,” she whispered. But he knew it did. Between licks he reached down, unwrapped one handed in one movement. Like riding a bike, he hadn’t forgotten how. Gingerly, he placed tube over tip, opened, spread, pushed. She was anxious, excited, forced its fit, urged rubber down hard as he dove into her. She was so ready.

By the time they climaxed the sun was pouring heat through glass. Warm leather. Ecstasy. Afterward, she wanted to smoke. He didn’t. She stepped out into the salt tipped air and lit up, inhaled deeply. He watched her. Audrey Hepburn hair blew in the wind, wet lips curled around cool menthol, bared shoulder pressed against hot chrome. She looked away. Distant. Aloof.

He couldn’t take his eyes off her.

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For some reason this topic has come up a lot in conversation lately. I’m not sure why. It might be because I write erotic romance so people are interested in what that means, what it is. Where the line is drawn or more specifically, where I draw the line.

That’s easy, but let’s explore the issue first.

Definition of erotica:

1 : literary or artistic works having an erotic theme or quality.

2 : depictions of things erotic.

3 : literature or art intended to arouse sexual desire

Definition of pornography:

1 : sexually explicit videos, photographs, writings, or the like, whose purpose is to elicit sexual arousal.

2 : printed or visual material containing the explicit description or display of sexual organs or activity, intended to stimulate erotic rather than aesthetic or emotional feelings.

3 :  the depiction of acts in a sensational manner so as to arouse a quick intense emotional reaction <the pornography of violence>

So in short, pornography is a show all and tell all. Erotica is a tease.

Personally, I’d rather be teased. I get no pleasure in seeing body parts in their raw and open form, seeing the act of intercourse or fellatio or anal sex at close range. It doesn’t mean it’s vulgar because our bodies are not vulgar nor is sex vulgar. I personally just don’t enjoy seeing it depicted in that form, however, I’m also not interested in banning or prohibiting porn.

Lately, I’ve been more aware of how television is becoming pornography in its own way. Nothing is left to the imagination anymore. There are so many shows I like. They have all the formulaic ingredients: action, adventure, who done its, love, sex, violence. But each of those categories is getting more and more explicit. When the ‘bad guy’ is killed, rather than shooting the scene right up to the moment of murder, the murder is shown in its entirety – being bludgeoned with an axe or stabbed multiple times. You can hear the skull crack, you see blood spurt, you see the violence in the killers eyes. It is so real and so explicit it’s frightening. Does it have to be so graphic?

Nothing is left to imagine, to fantasize, to wonder about. They have shown us everything. Our limits have been pushed to the max and we as audiences now expect this type of visual entertainment. Just think how this is shifting our consciousness into some extreme level of what could be considered ‘normal’. But I digress…

Why do we (as audiences) want to see more, see it all? It seems once you go down that road, you seek more and more. You are never satiated. Perhaps that’s human nature?

Reading a good book (erotic or not) leads you along a page turning journey, pulls you through the story by what is ultimately going to happen, intrigued all along the way. Even when all is revealed, there is still so much left to imagine because somehow all has not been revealed. 

Good erotica doesn’t give it all away. It can be explicit but (in my opinion) if written or filmed or photographed well, it has the nuance of sex, the ‘just the right amount’ to make you squirm.

I write romance with an edge. I write titillating. I enjoy writing the stories most of all, and if the stories are sassy and sexy and provocative, that’s okay. My line is easily drawn.

 

Reading Erotica in the Sex Shop

Posted on: February 16th, 2016 by Madison Lake 2 Comments

taol_logoWhat fun!

A local shop called The Art of Loving invited me to do a reading last week. They also agreed to carry some of my books. Yay!

The Art of Loving has been around since 2002. They not only sell fabulous and quality sex toys and accessories, but support local artists and entrepreneurs through workshops and events at their shop. It’s win-win, right? I just love small community stores like this and do everything I can to support them back.

I arrived in the pissing rain at 7:30 pm (event to start at 8). Chairs were set out around a small reading area with a reading chair and side table for me. Excellent.

I set out the wine, cheese and crackers I brought while chatting with the lovely and helpful store attendant, who damn if I can remember her name!! I’m terrible with names but in all fairness, my mind was on my reading. Ack! But she was fabulous from start to finish.

People began to literally dribble into the store around 7:45. The rain was relentless and I give kudos to those who came out on such a dreary night. Three supportive friends showed up (thanks!!) and some other folks I did not know, which was great.

Because of the nature of the venue, I decided to read the steamier bits from my newest book, Boudoir Storiesa book of short stories. It was fun to read them aloud and get active response from the rapt audience. After the reading we had a Q&A which was amazing. What an attentive audience. The questions were well thought out, interesting and sparked discussions about strong female leads, writing about same sex love as well as hetero, personal experience and writing, imagination versus reality or making it real on the page. And so on.

You don’t need a large group to have a good reading. It’s all about the audience, and these people were fabulous.

Thank you all for coming out to the event and thanks Vera Zyla  for your support.

I will say a few of the guests had a wild and wonderful shopping spree when the event was over and the doors were closed. Who knew silicone gel and lubricant cannot be used with a silicone product like a dildo or vibrator and that a cock leash is a great couples toy? I learned so much!

 

Sex In The Novel

Posted on: March 24th, 2015 by Madison Lake No Comments

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I’ve been asked more than once if the things I write about in my romantica are from experiences I’ve had. Wouldn’t you like to know?!

I do believe that to be a good writer, one must write what they know, and who doesn’t know about sex – at least to some degree?

I guarantee, all my stories are fiction. They are based on things I’ve heard or read about or seen in a film, or pieced together from all of the above. They are fantasies, completely made up. Sure, there are emotions and descriptives that are taken from my own experiences, but generally my imagination wanders and a story unfolds.

One piece in my new collection of erotic short stories is about an awkward, shy guy named Floyd who sells insurance. But Floyd is a member of a private fetish club where one night a week he becomes someone else, and lives out his own fantasy in a place he feels safe to do so.

I’ve never been to a fetish club, although once I was propositioned to go with a very young, very handsome Heath Ledger look-alike dressed in chain mail after we had danced together at a party. But I have talked about fetish clubs with people who have been, I have read about them, I have researched, so I feel comfortable enough to write about the subject, or at least include it in a story.

Readers will always want to personally attach a writer to their work. They will always wonder if the writer actually did this or that. It’s one of those things you have to live with. Let people think what they want. They will anyway.

As for me, I’ll keep writing out my fantasies for you, no holds barred, no regrets. Well, maybe one; when I didn’t take up the offer to check out the fetish club with my knight in shining armour. Just for the experience, of course.