Balls and Walnuts
more than you ever wanted to know
SBD: Ellora’s Cavepeople
For today’s Smart Bitches Day, I bring you:
Ellora’s CAVEMEN
Dreams of the Oasis, Vol. IV
A few of my beta readers know that my romance-in-progress began its days as an Ellora’s Cave wannabe. I launched into it as ignorant as could be, my erotica knowledge limited to Pauline Reage’s Story of O, Anais Nin’s Delta of Venus, and Anonymous’s Deva-Dasi (hot writer, that Anonymous). But after I was two, three, four chapters into it — and no flesh — my betas informed me I was writing romance, not erotica. Oh, well.
So I was delighted when Kris Starr asked me to read “Virtuosity,” her story in Dreams of the Oasis, Volume IV. Maybe now I would have a clearer idea of what goes into modern erotica.
Here’s the setup. You’re in the faaaar future. Three years after her husband was killed in a surprise Korgon attack, Commander Dillon Walker needs to get her groove on – and her friends know just the thing. Whackin’ off in the HoloSuite! Because, face it, HoloSuites were invented for meaningless, no-strings-attached, no-risk-of-STDs, non-stop, HOT SEX. (You just know that between episodes, Jean Luc Picard was getting a computer-simulated Counselor Troi to give him some o’ dat “around the alpha quadrant” action. And Worf? That Klingon was such a sub. You don’t want to know.)
Enter Aidan. Or perhaps the appropriate syntax is, “Aidan, enter. Several times, please.” Aidan is Dillon’s dream squeeze. He may be a hologram but he’s solid man-flesh, and you know those holocreations can’t be bargained with. They can’t be reasoned with. They don’t whine, fart in bed, or come in your mouth (unless you ask them to), and they absolutely will not stop, ever, until you are satisfied.
It occurs to me that if George W. Bush had taken the money wasted on the Iraq War and used it for basic research, not only would we have true energy independence, but each and every family would have its own HoloSuite. Damn him, damn him to hell!
Rest assured, Dillon is well and truly satisfied by the story’s end; she’s moved beyond the death of Dear Hubs, and a surprisingly human (i.e., not computer generated) prospect looms hornily on her horizon.
How’s the sex? Chick friendly, but what do you expect — this is Dillon’s fantasy, after all. I had hopes for something a tad S&M when Aidan, in 21st Century police officer’s garb, told Dillon she needed to be punished, and followed that with a surly, “Spread your legs, ma’am,” but no tasers, no cuffs, no hot baton action (unless you count what Dillon does to Aidan’s baton in the next scene . . .) Thorough rogering is the name of the game.
It occurs to me that I’m not writing my sex scenes with women in mind. I’m spare on the foreplay, heavy on the genital action, and probably too clinical in my descriptions. If Kris’s story is representative, I need more kissing, breast-groping, and nipple-strumming. My counter-argument is that my protagonists are horny 25-year-olds. Do they have time for foreplay? No! They don’t even have enough time to sleep!
By the way, you know those back-cover author photos? I have just the one for Kris. Here she is with her friend Rella downing shots of Krugy. Note third Krugy comfortably lodged in the author’s cleavage.
I gotta love two gals who swallow my Krugys.
D.
[…] In other news, Doug is pimping me today, so go check it out. Especially the swallowing. […]
Apparently everyone is shocked into silence.
(At least, I hope that’s what it is…)
Thanks for the great pimping, Doug. I’m glad you enjoyed the story. And truth be told, that’s where the idea came from — a discussion with a former…er…romantic interest bemoaning the lack of HoloDeck use for kinkier purposes.
Like I told you, I think Seeing is Believing is a stronger story overall, but Virtuosity was fun to write. 🙂
In other news, I’ve taken the plunge. See Blog for deets.
Well, frankly, that’s the only decent use of the Holodeck I’ve heard of so far – a big dildo.
If we had taken all the money we have wasted on the debacle(s) in Iraq, we could have flying cars by now and not need oil. You know, anti-gravity means of transportation. Sheesh! Bush! Double Sheesh! I recently saw a picture of him and his damn Scottie in a car. I swear the dog was driving because Bush is not smart enough.
I always suspected Worf and Geordie had a thing on the side going on, so, uh… thanks for, uh, fleshing (rimshot!) that image out for me. No, really.
Not that I’m a prolific writer or anything, but I’ve always found that writing about sex is tricksy; there you are, writing away, when whoops! you’re squarely in the territory of farce, or hardcore pr0n, or that-was-too-much-information-wasn’t-it, or biological mechanics. That’s probably why I tend to leave it mostly implied. The reader can then fill in the details (or not) as their own tastes dictate.
Oh, I don’t know, PS; I tend to write what pleases me, which will undoubtedly offend some people. All day today I kept thinking about that sex scene I wrote. Was it too raunchy? Tastefully raunchy, I think, and then I have to resist the urge to water it down, make it more vanilla.
On the farce/hardcore spectrum, I vary between the two. But at least I enjoy rereading these scenes — so my most important audience is satisfied.
I wasn’t thinking so much about offending people – just how hard it is to keep it ‘real’ (whatever that is). And hey! it’s sex, after all; what else is it if it isn’t farce, hardcore, quirks, neuroses, fetishes, fears, plumbing, and mechanics all wrapped up into one sweaty bundle?
For me, the sexual sins writers usually commit are a.) phoning it in because they ‘needed’ a sex scene – I’m thinking of some of the post-Fleming Bond novels, for instance – now *there’s* some formulaic sex, b.) being only passingly familiar with the techniques they describe – I think of it as the Penthouse Forum syndrome, or c.) not being comfortable enough with the action that they’re describing that you can practically feel the way they squirmed and blushed as they typed.
Oh, it’s real, but I guess I’ll wait for my readers to call bullshit on that claim.
Formulaic? No. Unfamiliar — me? I wouldn’t make my hero do anything I wouldn’t delightedly do myself. Uncomfortable? Well. Only inasmuch as my sister is one of my beta readers. There’s certainly some Ew Factor there.
I just wanted to note that you got TWO women swallowing at the same time. Which is pretty cool, if you ask me.
Yes, indeed. Why can’t more women realize that swallowing is the key to a man’s heart?
I swallow, but I’ve never done it with a friend.