Tuesday, March 31, 2015

Tiny Tale Tuesday: Satisfied

Fingers tripped along sun-darkened skin, played out a dance across hard biceps and pecs. "Just lay still."

Simon barely nodded at it. He hadn't expected anything like this when he answered the ad, had agreed mostly because of the pictures that accompanied it. And they didn't disappoint. Michael stood tall and muscular, fine, pale hair spreading across his chest. His cock pointed up toward the ceiling, the head purple, glistening with a sheen of pre-come.

He hadn't tied Simon up, hadn't gagged him or otherwise subdued him. But his voice, deep like rum, proved enough. His requests flowed out, and Simon never thought to defy them. Not when Michael had laid on top of him, pressed his tongue forward. Not when he nibbled earlobes and nipples, shooting static across Simon's skin. And certainly not now, as his hands wandered up and down, brushing feather-light across Simon's chest, his ribs, his stomach, and down lower.

Slowly, the fingers tightened, curled into a gentle fist around Simon's cock. Michael leaned in close, whispered into Simon's ear. "Are you loud?"

"Sometimes." Hardly a breath of a word.

"Good. Try to stay quiet."

The firm hand eased up and down Simon's shaft, from his balls all the way up and over the head. Michael spit down onto it, easing the movement. Just knowing he couldn't moan or whimper or beg made it that much harder for Simon. All the sounds of passion filled his mouth, pressed against his lips, begged to be released. He wouldn't be punished in any way for it. Michael had assured him of that. But still, Simon couldn't allow himself to make the noise, even when Michael moved faster, squeezed ever s slightly harder around the over-sensitive shaft.

"Do you want to come yet?"

"No." He didn't want it to end. Not yet, but the pressure built inside of him, fought against the pure pleasure of being touched like this. He knew he wouldn't last long, and Michael kept stroking, applying more pressure, slicking the shaft with spit.

Simon's toes curled up and popped. His fingers tightened, balling up the bed sheet in his fist. He clenched his jaw shut, determined to stay quiet, remain silent even as his back arched up and his balls twitched. Liquid heat flew from his shaft, landed on his neck, his chest, his belly. It tangled in his pubes.

Michael leaned down and licked the last drop of come from Simon's head, then sighed. "Are you satisfied?"

More than he'd been in some time. But just as before, conflict fought within him. He didn't want this over, not yet, not when there could be so much more.

"Not quite."


Michael grinned. "I'll try again."

Monday, March 30, 2015

REVIEW: Writing Erotica for Beer Money

Darlings, I was planning to come back a little bit later, and with something a little better than this. That's still happening, I promise, but something's got my hackles up, so to speak, and I need to speak on it.

Now, normally I don't review books. There are a number of reasons for that. It can look bad sometimes, with one author reviewing another. Or it can lead to hurt feelings among colleagues. And frankly, I find I'm not terribly good at writing reviews. But I read a book last night, and I couldn't contain myself.


I know, the cover isn't exactly my normal fare. But I had confidence in my ability to look past the breasts and see the advice within. The title made it sound like it would be kind of cute, maybe a little quirky, and pretty fun. And it was free, so I took a chance at it.

I wish I hadn't.

The Good:
The writing itself wasn't in any way bad, although it could have used a good proofreading. And the advice on branding covers was very much useful, if already pretty well-known to anyone in the industry. For people just starting, I would definitely say to pay attention to that section.

The Bad:
It honestly felt partially done, like there should have been three times as much book. Dalia Daudelin (so far as I can tell, Michael Meadows didn't really do much in this book) would start in on something, a list of 'kinks' for example. And, after a handful, she would move on, leaving you feeling unsatisfied. There just simply needed to be more of the information that was given, and it would have made a big improvement.

Now, so far it's pretty peaceable. No reason for me to get all in a tizzy. But we're not done. We still have...

The Ugly:
This book was overflowing with ugliness, and that is why I felt the need to review this book, to warn people off from it. Please, if you think you'd like to write erotica, avoid this book. You can find the same (and better) information on blogs and websites all over the internet. Or approach an erotica or erotic romance author. I can't say that everyone will be willing to help, but a number of us will, myself included.

Throughout Beer Money, there's a pervasive feeling that the author(s) don't enjoy writing erotica and, even worse, look down on those who do. According to this book, when people are reading erotica, they just want the same story told over and over. When people are reading erotica, they don't care about typos or story inconsistencies. When people are reading erotica, they don't care about realism at all.

As an erotica author, I find it offensive that they have this distaste for the genre they write in. But that's small. That's their business and, if the numbers quoted can be believed, it's bringing in 2000 dollars a month. So more power to them on that. But to feel that way about erotica/erotic romance readers? That is offensive. That is beyond the pale.

Succinctly, that is fucked up.

I'm not going to say to stop reading the books by these authors. That's not my place. Reading is about enjoyment. What I'm saying is specific to this one book: there's better there. Much, much better.

Raven