Guy New York: Erotica Author and General Debaucher

Featured

Guy New York is a bestselling erotica author and publisher with more than 25 titles to his name. With two full length novels, numerous short works, and a thousand free stories on his blog Quickies in New York, his books have been widely read and occasionally burned.

You can find all of his books here, as well as on Amazon and Barnes and Noble. He also runs a dirty bookstore at www.greaterotica.com. 

A Perfect Vision

Photo by The Dirty Gentleman

Photo by The Dirty Gentleman

She was sitting across from me on a chair that looked like someone’s grandmother had lost their virginity on it. Her smile was playful, and I imagined a straw hanging from her lips, one end chewed to a pulp as she toyed with it and me at the same time. As her legs parted ever so slightly, I sat up directly and slid one hand down to my right thigh, my palm just barely brushing against the head of my cock beneath the tight fabric.

Less than six feet away she might as well have been a mile, but it didn’t matter. I watched her dress ride up slowly, pulled by a firm but lazy hand. I felt myself slip down as I watched, and she nodded as I released the button to my pants. By the time I could see the black fabric between her legs, my zipper was down, my fingers were wrapped around my cock, and I could feel the blood pumping beneath my fingers.

When her skirt was finally about her waist, she stopped her teasing and simply leaned back in the chair, her thighs wide and her arms relaxed in her lap. I stared at the fabric that covered her even as I pulled myself from my jeans, letting her watch as I grew harder by the second. Her smile was the only indication of her appreciation, but it was enough for me to keep going. I closed my hand tighter, feeling the resistance now as I began to move in the only direction imaginable.

My breathing was the only real noise in the room, other than the soft sound of skin against skin as my hand moved faster. I paused on occasion to gently rub myself, reveling in my own desire even as I struggled to temper it for just a moment. When her hand finally slipped lazily down between her things I was back to full speed through, and that time she laughed just loudly enough for me to moan.

She knew I was close by the tightness around my eyes, the muscles straining in my forearm, and the way my feet stretched out like an awkward and giant ballerina. She smiled as I gasped, and when her fingers touched the edge of the black lace, I nearly lost myself. It felt like years that she toyed with it, never once letting me glimpse what was beneath, but always leaving my hope in tact all the same.

My own body was getting close to the point of no return, even as I struggled to wait for the things I desired most. The rest of the room was a blur as my vision honed in on her and nothing else, and for all our distance I might as well have been inches from her. I could feel my near release gently wet my fingers, but I knew I didn’t have much control left at all. Staring at her hands, her thighs, and the tight fabric beneath which I imagined I could see the shape of her pressing into the lace, I could only revel in awe as I struggled to find words for so much glory.

And then, just when I wasn’t sure I could hold on much longer, she leaned her head back and moved her fingers for no more than a second. I remember it lasting far longer, and I swear I can still see the tiny muscles of her hand move as she gently, laughingly, nearly absentmindedly, moved the fabric to one side giving me a glimpse of what lay beneath.

My moans were no longer quiet as my body tightened, my fist paused, and my cock tensed as it slid past the point of no return. With my eyes still wide and still glued to her, I was moving again, pulling my skin back, tightening around myself, and then finally releasing everything as I came and came without an ounce of shame or regret. Her smile was big and her eyes bright as I trembled on the couch in front of her, but when I looked down once more her skirt covered everything even as I lay back as exposed and undone as a creature in a cage that was far too small.

She laughed again, this time all warmth and joy as she watched my soften all over again. My chest rose and fell, my hands slipped to my side, and I resisted every urge I had to hide myself. I watched her stand before straightening her skirt and then approaching the couch. She brushed one strand of hair behind my left ear as she leaned in and said nothing at all. But she kissed me on the forehead with affection that bordered on love before pressing one finger against my lips.

I smiled as well, still unmoved and still undone, as she turned and walked towards the door. A moment later I was alone in the warm room with nothing but a memory which I knew I would recall again and again. I heard her footsteps for a moment, and then the sound of another door closing.

I finally let myself sigh as I closed my eyes. My hand moved from my knee back up along my thigh as the room grew darker. And then I saw her once more, her head arched back as she teased me with a glimpse of beauty.

I felt the blood beginning its journey once more as my hand squeezed gently into a lovely embrace, the memory a perfect vision that would forever be mine.

A Hundred Ways to Share: an erotic short story

a threesome with two white men and a white woman

Photo by The Dirty Gentleman for Quickies New York

I like watching her fuck. I don’t think it’s all that complicated, but I do occasionally realize that the world doesn’t look at everything the same way I do. But in this case, I suspect more people lie about it than anything else. I mean come on, it’s hot as hell to watch people get it on, and if one of those people happens to be my girlfriend, it’s even hotter. She gets what she wants, I get what I want, so what’s the big deal?

There are a hundred ways to do this, but we’ve found the one that works for us. Some people need the thrill of cheating, some want to be tied up and forced to watch, and some want to get drunk at a swinger party and just see what happens. Some guys like the humiliation of watching a dude with a big cock bang their wife while they watch from the corner and some guys prefer to hold their girl down and direct all the action.

Which is where we come in. We have a pretty typical relationship, at least for the times, which involves me generally telling her what to do. At least in the bedroom. Look, we’ve unpacked all our patriarchal training, we’ve passed our good feminist exam with flying colors, and we’re damn good at communicating. And we know what we like, which in this case is me telling my girl to fuck other people. Most often while I’m there doing other horrible things to her. Honestly, I think it’s pretty damn romantic, even if I understand not everyone feels the same which. Which is fine by me. You do your shit, and I’ll do mine.

The first time wasn’t perfect, but it never is, so don’t judge me by that one time. We had only been dating for a few months, and we were in that in between stage where we hadn’t really talked about being committed but also weren’t talking about other people. At least not to each other. We hung out three of four nights a week, sometimes more, and we went out for breakfast on the weekends after late night parties with mutual friends. It was a good relationship, even if it was new, and we laughed our asses off, fucked like animals, and drank through our hangovers when necessary. Like I said, we were good.

Normally I would have found a better way to bring up my turn-ons, but I had already grown so used to just saying what was on my mind, that I didn’t really bother to do the grunt work. We were hanging out one night at my place, just drinking a bottle of wine and watching Netflix when I mentioned that my buddy Marcus thought she was super hot. She raised an eyebrow at me, but she didn’t say anything, which I thought was probably a good sign. So I kept on going.

“Do you think he’s cute too?” I asked, totally casually.

“He’s alright, why?”

See, she was super blunt about it, so there was no use beating around the bush. There was no use hemming and hawing as if I hadn’t basically already asked the damn question.

“He wants to chill some time,” I said, with a shrug. “And I thought if you were into it, you guys might want to fuck.”

“I didn’t know you were into that,” she said, more quietly than I expected. I was nervous for a moment, but I wasn’t terrified. If she said no then we’d move on, although to be honest, I have never had a girl say no to that. I don’t mean specifically Marcus, I just mean the offer in general.

“It could be fun,” I said, trying to keep it nonchalant. “But it’s not a big deal. Just thought I’d offer since he can’t stop talking about you, and I’ve seen you flirt with him.”

“Are you jealous?” she asked without even a hint of accusation in her voice. Sarah was an odd duck, I already knew that, but she never reacted exactly the way I expected.

“Maybe a little?” I said, going with complete honesty. “But that’s not really what it’s about. You two flirt, he thinks you’re hot, so I thought I’d offer. Besides, I think it would fun to watch.”

“Okay,” she said, and that was it. There was no more conversation, no more negotiation, and no more communication. And you know what? I was fine with that. I didn’t need a huge conversation about it, and I didn’t need it to turn into some big ordeal. It was a simple question and she had answered it. Sure, she had told me. She’d bang my friend if I wanted her to. Why the hell not?

Two days later I invited him over, and the rest is history. It wasn’t the least awkward threesome I’ve ever had, but it worked out alright in the long run. We all took our time that night, and I realized within the first hour that if shit was actually going to happen, then I was going to be the one to do it. So, after we had all had a few drinks, I stood up, smiled at them both and invited them to join me in the bedroom. Sarah shrugged, Marcus smiled, and the three of us left our glasses on the coffee table as we made for the sanctity of my king size bed.

“Why don’t you sit,” I said to him, resting my hands on Sarah’s shoulders. He sat down like he was told, and she didn’t say a damn word as I held her firmly. She was used to me being in control when it came to sex so why should this be any different?

“You’ve been staring at my girlfriend for the last two months, so I figured I’d show you more,” I said, pulling her shirt off over her head before either of them could respond. He sighed as her bare breasts came into view, and I’m pretty sure I felt her shiver for a moment. As for me, I was hard as a rock and there was no hiding it. I undid her jeans slowly as he looked her up and down, and I could instantly feel the tension in the room grow to the perfect level.

“What do you think?” I asked when she was standing in front of him in just her panties.

“She’s so fucking hot,” he mumbled, unable to look away.

“Do you want to see more?”

“Fuck yeah,” he said, as he stood up almost like he couldn’t help himself. He was only inches in front of her, and there was no going back. I slid the cotton down over her ass until she was wearing nothing at all, and Marcus instantly reached one hand out to touch her hip. I pushed them ever so slightly closer together, and I could hear her breathing get quicker with each second.

“Tell me, Sara,” I whispered, as his hand moved up to her breasts. She arched her back and her nipples hardened in a second. “Do you want to fuck my friend?”

She nodded, but that wasn’t enough. I wanted to hear it, and I knew he did too.

“Tell him then,” I said, my hand sliding down her back, over her ass, and then between her legs. She was soaking wet already, and I knew it was done. There was no going back now.

“I want to fuck you,” she said so quietly he almost couldn’t hear her. But instead of throwing her down, he looked up shyly and smiled at us both.

“I want you too,” he said, before leaning in and kissing her. I watched as I fingered her, and it was sweet and tender. Not exactly what I was looking for, but what can you do? Some people are just sweet and there’s no use trying to avoid it.

“Why don’t you suck his dick for me,” I said, pushing her down and breaking their kiss in an instant. And then it’s all a bit of a blur, to be honest. Maybe it’s because it was the first time and my adrenaline was pumping so hard there was nothing left to do about it, and maybe it was the wine going to my head. But she knelt on the floor and took him into her mouth before doing the same to me. We eventually climbed onto the bed, and we took turns going down on her, kissing her up and down, and fingering that perfect pussy as we bit her neck and squeezed her nipples until she moaned.

Marcus eventually got a condom on and climbed between her legs, and I reached down and rubbed her clit as he slid inside her. She actually looked up at me, her eyes wide with surprise and joy, and I smiled back down at her as he moved faster right next to my fingers. They fucked for only a few minutes before he came, but she was right behind him nonetheless. Maybe it was my mouth just inches from her ear asking her if she liked getting fucked and maybe it was my fingers on her clit, rubbing her just the right way while Marcus pounded into her. Whatever it was, she came just before he pulled out, and the room was a sweaty and glorious mess.

I didn’t fuck her until after he left, but even then it was almost like he was still there. She wrapped her legs around me and bit my neck as we took our time, and this time it was Sarah whispering the horrible things.

“Did you like watching me fuck him?” she asked as I pinned her arms above her head.

“You know I did,” I said, thrusting into her faster and faster.

“You like me being a little slut?” she asked, the teasing in her voice nearly overshadowed by her own want.

“You are the perfect little whore,” I said, my hand moving to her throat just as she liked it. “You’re my perfect little whore, and I’m going to use you and fuck you until you can’t remember your own name. I’m going to fuck you and then let my friends fuck you, and you’re going to come so many times you lose track of everything. You’re mine, do you understand?”

She screamed yes and I came inside her, and together we let out everything all at once in a glorious release that didn’t need any explanation at all. In fact, we curled up next to each other, and once again we didn’t really talk about it. After all, what was there to say? We had a lovely threesome, everybody got to come, it was generally safe, and we had a good time. In fact, the only thing she said before rolling over and falling asleep was a few words of gratitude.

“Thank you,” she whispered as I kissed the back of her neck and wrapped my arms around her.

“I love you,” I said, pulling her closer. She nodded and smiled in the dark.

“I know,” she said, gripping my hand.

And then we slept.

The Dirtiest Book in the World

tumblr_nbbyvxbwbg1te0sexo1_1280Occasionally readers still send me pictures of themselves reading Disgusting Beautiful Immoral. It had been a while since I read it myself, and  so I recently looked through the novel again to find myself somewhat surprised by how incredibly filthy, dirty, and downright messy the book is.

I’m not sure what makes something dirtier than anything else (although I love the well-worn cover in this photo) but I do know that I packed more sex into this book than in any other, and I suspect you’d be hard pressed to find a dirtier full-length book out there. I’m not saying it’s for sure the dirtiest book in the world, but I would bet that it’s up there.

Here’s one of my favorite filthy bits from the first time Brent and Kelly fuck in front of the narrator:


“Look at me,” she whispered, her hand on my chin. “Do you want this? Do you want him to fuck me?” She was so quiet I almost didn’t hear her, and all I could do was nod in response.

Kelly reached one hand between her legs, but she never looked away. Her lips parted, and I could hear Brent grunting as he focused. The muscles in her arm tightened, her ass shifted, and suddenly her eyes opened wide. Her mouth opened in a silent scream, and I knew it was done. I kissed her once, but I couldn’t resist any longer. I leaned back, my hand on my cock as I watched, and then I finally looked down. After all this time, I had to see it.

Her thighs were open, wider this time, and her lips were bright red. I stared in awe as I saw her stretched around Brent’s thick cock, only half of him inside her. She closed her eyes and started to moan, her hips moving so slowly as she pushed down. Inch by inch he opened her, stretched her, and filled her, as she bit her lip and began to moan his name. I lifted her leg higher, hearing her scream, and I leaned in closer. He was moaning too, as he struggled not to move, letting her take as much as she could.

It felt like hours before finally he filled her all the way, and she moaned sounds I had never heard. Her body shook, the vein in his cock pulsed, but they held still for an eternity, him buried inside her. His cock inside my Babygirl. It was hard enough to watch, but the listening was something else completely. She grew louder and louder, even as they held still, and I was in awe. She was coming and they had barely started.

“Fuck, it feels good. It’s so fucking big, but…”

“Is it okay?” he asked, speaking for the first time.

She nodded her head as she tried moving, and I couldn’t look away. There was another man inside my little girl, and she was coming just from him entering her. She was clenching around him, moaning for him, and I knew everything was about to change.

“Say it, Babygirl.” My voice was a whisper, but she looked at me, her face clouded with lust. “Tell him what you want. It’s okay. You’ve already sucked his cock, so say it.”

It took a moment for it to register on her face, but then it was done.

“Fuck me,” she moaned. It was quiet at first, but it grew louder in seconds, and her simple request was instantly the sweet sound of her begging. “Fuck me, Brent. Please, fuck me hard. Do it, please, I need it.”

And then he began to move, as I lay there jerking off while I watched. At first, he slid in and out of her, once pulling all the way out until she begged him to put it back in, but then they fucked. There’s no other way to describe it, and I was in heaven. He slammed into her cunt, and she pushed against him. He thrust into her, and the screaming and moaning must have woken the neighborhood.

“You are so tight,” he screamed as he fucked my little girlfriend, and I was amazed. Not at their bodies, and not even at the size of his cock. I was in awe at how easily they moved, how loudly they begged, and how sweetly they fucked. When I kissed her mouth, Kelly smiled at me, and I was back to being myself, the jealousy completely overtaken by my want. I moved up on the bed, pulling a pillow behind my back, and I took her by the hair and forced her eyes to look up at me.

Brent rolled her over onto her knees, her whimper only lasting the few seconds he wasn’t inside her, and then he fucked her again. I lowered her mouth to my cock and she swallowed me without a moment’s wait. She grabbed me, sucked me into her mouth, and pushed back onto him.

“I love you so much,” she whispered, looking into my eyes. And then she was back around me, deepthroating me, and gagging each time he pushed her onto me. The world was a blur.

“Do you like getting fucked?” I asked, even though I knew she couldn’t answer. “Do you like having his big cock inside you? Do you like fucking Daddy’s friend?”

She started to come again, all of us having already lost count, and her body shook with screams of joy and release. She shook, her hands still on me even as she bucked her hips against him. I could see her orgasm move through her, and the expression on her face went from complete adoration to unfettered lust. She was prettier than I had ever seen her before.

“Guys, I’m gonna come soon,” Brent said. He looked at me for the first time and shrugged his shoulders like we were just having a chat. I thought for a moment, then pulled her forward and threw her down on her back. I knelt above her and jerked off as she opened her legs wide.

“Keep fucking me,” she moaned, and he was back inside her without a word. I watched them fuck, my eyes moving from her face to her pussy, and when I reached down and rubbed her clit she screamed my name. He started to shake and looked at me once more, as if asking me the question that I knew was on all our minds.

“Come on her,” I said. “Come on her stomach.”

He pulled out a second later, and somehow, maybe because we had been friends forever, we started to come at the same time – him between her legs, leaning forward – and me onto her lips, her chin, and her neck. Our fists were blurs as we pumped and jerked, and all three of us were making noises that were new. I watched his come land on her stomach, and even then I had an ounce of regret. It was beautiful and sexy, but no matter what the danger, there was a part of me that had longed to see him come inside her.

I pushed the thought away as I watched her open her lips around me, licking the come off my cock as her own body continued to spasm on the bed. She held me in her hand, even as she rubbed his come into her skin with the other, and by the time I kissed her mouth I was in love all over again. The mess on her body was perfect, and even her red and swollen pussy was a piece of art. Everything about the scene was a dream, and I never wanted to wake up…

(You can find the full book on Amazon in both print and e-book formats.)

 

Grown-up Sex (Erotica from QNY)

“What the fuck is grown-up sex?”

“I don’t know,” I mumbled, trying to wrap my mind around the words I was hunting for. “I just mean we should fuck like adults. Without the… You know… Without the stuff…”

“We should fuck without the stuff?” she asked skeptically.

The night was not going as I had planned, but maybe that was part of it. Grown-up sex meant we talked even when it wasn’t easy and it meant we didn’t get exactly what we wanted. We were adults and we understood sacrifice and delayed gratification. We knew that every relationship was a complicated dance of compromise, emotional navigation, and empathy; sex was no exception. Consent meant we talked through everything no matter what that felt like. It meant we worked out the logistics and settled into the necessity of agreement. We were adults, and we could fuck like adults.

“You know what I mean,” I finally said.

“You mean grown-up sex is negotiated?” she whispered, moving until she knelt over me. She reached down between my legs and took me gently in her hand. I nodded in affirmation.

“Grown-up sex is something we talk about and don’t jump into without consent?” she asked, squeezing harder as I wiggled beneath her. Somehow the blankets were gone and her thumb was doing something to the head of my cock that made me lose focus.

“Yeah,” I muttered. “All of that.”

“It’s dignified,” she whispered, as I arched my back in frustration each time she let go. “It’s safe and it’s beautiful. Grown-up sex is neat and tidy and it doesn’t leave room for mistakes.”

“I mean, I don’t know about all that…” I said as she moved up until she was just inches away from my mouth.

“It’s clean and it’s sober and it’s all about taking care of each other,” she whispered, lowering herself down until all I could do was open my mouth. With fingers in my hair, she pulled me to her, my lips and tongue opening her as she pulled harder and didn’t let go.

“It’s kind and it’s polite, isn’t that right you filthy little slut?”

My hand was on my cock and the other on her ass as every word I had struggled to grasp left me in an instant. My body was so hard it nearly hurt, and all I could think about was how badly I wanted to fuck her where my mouth was. All I wanted was to fill her, fuck her, and finish inside her, and there wasn’t a damn thing else that mattered.

I rolled her to her back with a squeal, and she bit my lip in reply to my kiss. In less than a second I was in her and her legs were wrapped around my back as we fucked on the bed without any words at all. One hand pinned her arms above her head as the other moved to her throat, and her eyes opened wide in amazement and surprise. Her hips arched up against mine as I thrust harder and faster, and for a brief moment the only thing I wanted, the only thing that mattered at all, the only thing in the entire world that I needed, was to come until I couldn’t see, and nothing was going to hold me back.

“Fuck me!” she screamed as her nails raked my back and my fingers clenched tighter. She choked and she coughed, her face turning red in an instant, and then we were both shaking as we came, and the waves rolled through us again and again. I kissed her lips, my breath lost with every thing else, and she held me tightly, her spasms still holding me inside of her.

“Was that what you meant?” she finally asked, letting me roll to one side. All I could do was shake my head.

“Not at all,” I said, kissing her nose as I brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “It was so much better…”

New Erotic stories and Photos

screen shot of Quickies in New York archive of erotica

Click through to visit QNY.

I’ve been trying to get back to QNY after a little bit of a break, and it’s been fun to take it all a little less seriously. I’ve been reblogging photos I like (especially when I can credit the photographer) along with some of my older stories. And, for the first time in a while, I’ve been writing some new erotica as well!

If you have a chance, take a scroll through, although I’ll be sure to post some of the newer stories here too. I have a million projects going on right now, but smut is near and dear to my heart, and I’m going to keep riding this erotica bandwagon as long as I can.

The Stranger: an erotic short story

She likes to get fucked without seeing my face.

I’m happy to indulge her, because I enjoy fifteen minutes of sex followed by a drink. We’ve played out the same scene all over town, and it varies only in what she wears and what I drink when we’re done.  She waits for me somewhere. The where is up to me, but she waits and she knows if she’s late it won’t happen.

Last week she waited in a dressing room—the third from the right on the top floor.  When I walked in she was already breathing hard, and her hands were against the wall with her back to the door.  I locked it behind me and didn’t say a word as I lifted the back of her dress.  Her bare ass caught me by surprise and I smiled as I slid fingers across her skin.

She leaned forward at my touch and opened her thighs ever so slightly.  When I touched her she was already wet and she struggled to keep quiet.  I pushed two fingers inside her and wrapped my other hand around her slim neck.  I squeezed hardest each time my fingers entered her, and her moans were audible with each thrust.

She let out a sigh when I stepped back and I could see her body tense as she waited.  I paused for a moment and looked at her standing there with her head down and her eyes closed.  I wasn’t sure if she was pretending I was someone else or she was.  But it didn’t matter.

Seconds later I was inside her and I didn’t stop or slow down once.  I fucked her with just one purpose, and despite my lack of focus on her, she was coming almost as soon as I entered her.  I gripped her tightly and watched her body in the mirror.  She stood there bent over–her thighs open and her lips begging–and for a moment I was almost disgusted by the sight.  I refocused on what I was doing and minutes later I was coming as well.

I tried to be quick when I was done.  I didn’t bother with her dress, but I zipped up my pants, straightened my collar and unlocked the door in less than thirty seconds.  I didn’t bother to look back or close the door when I left.

Ten minutes later she walked into the bar on the first floor where I was drinking a gin and tonic.  Her hair was perfect and her dress look neatly pressed.  She kissed me on the cheek as she sat down next to me and I ordered her favorite.

“How was your afternoon?” she asked before taking a sip.

Cuckolding, Cheating, Swapping, and Sharing (part one)

 

Photo by The Dirty Gentleman

Photo by The Dirty Gentleman

Looking over my 30 or so book and story collections, I realize that I write about some type of partner sharing quite a bit. Some of it has been in a poly context of having multiple relationships, some of it (okay a lot of it) is in threesome scenarios, and a bit of it has been cuckold themed. While each scenario comes with its own emotional element, there’s a common thread of watching (or knowing) that a partner is getting it on with someone else.

I’ve written about this personally quite a bit on QNY as well, largely as an attempt to work through my own sexual history in hopes of bringing some understanding to my turn-ons. From my first “real” threesome with an ex-girlfriend and a college buddy, to my first honest open relationship, nearly every relationship I’ve had has included some level of openness, sharing, and on occasion, just plain cheating.

While there are a lot of things about these fantasies that I like, I want to first focus on the outsourcing of my sexual energy, which I think is a vital one for me. Maybe it’s not even energy so much as action, but watching someone I care about with someone else gives me space to enjoy my partner’s sexuality with some distance. But it gives me more than distance, and that’s the complicated part.

Watching my partner with someone else, sexualizes them in a completely different way. At the heart of it, I’m putting my fantasies of an uncontrollable sexual appetite onto my partner. When I sit back and listen to her beg a new partner to fuck her, I’m taking my own desire and passing it to her.

Let me try to say that another way: watching my partner lets me give in to my own desires for sexual freedom without the risk.

It doesn’t require me to be hard, it doesn’t require me to be capable, and it doesn’t require me to handle her pleasure (or even my own). In many ways, I’m taking myself out of the equation (at least partially) in order to remove some of the stress and anxiety that comes with sex.

In Disgusting Beautiful Immoral Thomas get’s to watch his girlfriend give in completely to Brent, and he enjoys the desire he sees in her eyes. He gets to sexualize her, objectify her, and of course, he also turns his jealousy into desire. Her sexual appetite becomes the focus.

In The Places They Come, Peter lets his wife assume all of the risks even though it begins largely as his turn-on. She has all the unprotected sex (almost always a theme with this genre), she puts herself in dangerous situations with men who might abuse her, and she controls everything, leaving him without the responsibility.

And in Driving Lisa, Henry gets to take his sexual attraction to his step-daughter and release it through other men having sex with her without feeling the guilt of his desire. At least until the end.

But in each case, the male character is taking his desires and putting them onto a female partner where he can avoid risk, effort, and fear. Of course, there is still anxiety, often more so, but it’s a different type that they can most often handle it. When they push their partners to let go, there’s an unspoken understanding that they really can’t do the same.

Like I said, there are a bunch of other things to unpack (jealousy, humiliation, control, etc) but this one feels both challenging and honest right now. In the middle of this fantasy, whether it’s sharing, watching, or even just talking about it, is an attempt to put my desires onto someone else who then get to assume the risks along with the pleasure. It’s complicated, but it’s also pretty damn interesting.

Maybe next time I’ll try to dive more into the control aspect of it, which is something I occasionally write about but have struggled with.

But until then, thanks for reading, and as always I’d love to hear your thoughts in the comments below.

 

Interview With Joe Rubin About Classic X-rated Adult Films

joeI ran across this interview with Joe Rubin of Vinegar Syndrome, an archivist who specializes in adult and x-rated films. It’s a pretty fascinating take on old movies, the difference between “porn” and “adult film” and the film industry in general.

One of my favorite quotes describes how older filmmakers often pushed boundaries far harder than their contemporary counterparts:

They were often pretty radical, though, incorporating aspects of sex that remain taboo in modern porn, such as homosexuality in “straight” films, rape, pedophiles, non-fetishized portrayals of incest, etc. The sex wasn’t always there to turn you on. In fact, it’s pretty 50/50, with most filmmakers using some of the explicit content in their works to be decidedly anti-erotic.

If you’re interested in film, especially adult film, then it’s completely worth a read. Some really great stuff in there.

Here’s the link to the full article over at Flavorwire.

Emmanuelle, the Movie and the Book

emmanuelle-american-posterWith my new book out, Susanna’s Affairs, I’ve gone back and read and re-watched Emmanuelle, where much of my inspiration came from. I was somewhat surprised by how erotic the movie actually was, and while the book was also pretty steamy it kind of lost me in the middle.

If you haven’t read the book or seen the movie, I suggest starting with the film and then deciding if you want to read more. The general story is about a young married French woman who moves to Thailand to join her husband at the Embassy. She meets other ex-pats, has some affairs (with both men and women) and of course makes love to her husband fairly regularly. And of course, all of it is done with his knowledge, establishing a somewhat odd, but interesting open marriage. While not what most of us think of as polyamory, the movie (and book) manage to avoid the typical drama that usually ensues from such an arrangement.

I guess what I found most interesting (other than how damn hot the movie actually is) was how they managed to make a movie about sexual discovery and exploration within the context of a marriage. Normally these things happen to single people with an inevitable end of coupling which puts a stop to the exploration. But in this case, the relationship is there from the beginning, which works delightfully well.

The other thing about the movie is that it’s beautiful. The clothes, the scenery, the people, and the houses are stunningly gorgeous and it’s hard to look away. And considering how much sex is happening (in wonderfully complicated ways) it’s pretty damn enjoyable.

The book and the movie both have a plot line of an older man taking Emanuelle under his wing in order to teach her about her own sexuality, and of course that’s the part I found most problematic and challenging. It works better in the movie, mostly because it moves along fairly quickly. In the book, however, we’re stuck with sixty pages of mansplaining “The Erotic” in ways that I frankly found difficult to follow.

For Susanna’s Affairs, I decided to let my heroine take a younger woman under her wing instead. I suppose my readers can decide if that’s just as problematic, but hopefully, they find it engaging, and of course hot.

All that said I recommend watching the movie if you get a change. And I hope you’ll give my new book a chance as well.

Here are some shots from the film to give you a sense of just how lush it all is.

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

 

How to Write About Sex

cover-webHere’s a section from my book Write ‘Till You’re Hard, about location. I love when a place is as much a character as the people, so maybe this will give you some ideas about how to dive into location as a means to finding your story:


We have a long list of classic erotic settings that often come from our own memories. I attended a lot of church conferences as a teenager, and much of my experimenting happened under pianos and on pews. I made out on the grass behind the administration building of my high school, and the bench seat of my Oldsmobile still turns me on just to think about. For you, it may be summer camp, college dorms, vacations in Paris, or parked up at the view. Who hasn’t had a blowjob get interrupted by the flash of a police lamp and a crackly voice telling us all to move along over the loudspeaker? These settings elicit memory, and memory is a pretty powerful aphrodisiac.

Stop for a moment and think about the places that turn you on the most. Let your mind drift to those hotel rooms, bars, and classrooms that make your pleasure bump tighten into a beautiful knob of excitement. If you can get that feeling down on paper, you probably have a good start. And if you can transport someone to the place you love and cherish (the magic park of pussy eating for example) you’ve got something.

There’s an especially nice view of New York on the opposite side of the river on the Palisades, and I used to park there and make out when I was younger and didn’t have any place else to go. An ex-girlfriend and I made our way up there one evening a few months after we broke up. We walked along the top of the cliff looking back at the city, but within minutes we were kissing and slipping hands under each other’s shirts. It didn’t help that we passed three or four foggy car windows through which we could barely see naked skin and moving bodies.

We didn’t make it back to the car before we fell to the ground, our hands having moved lower to jean zippers and belt buckles. Another couple was making out nearby when I pulled her pants down to her knees and tasted her pussy for the first time in months. We had struggled so hard to keep off each other, but I couldn’t stop once I was there. She pulled my hair and pushed against me, begging me to fuck her with each breath.

A while ago I stopped by the view on my way out of the city for a weekend getaway. I sat in the car and looked out over the Hudson River, and I was hard before I even knew I was thinking about her. I closed my eyes and it all came flooding back. I could smell her hair, and I remembered wondering if the couple next to us might want to do more than watch. I remembered her smile and her taunting me to fuck her even though we had promised we wouldn’t. I remembered more than had actually happened, and it was as vivid as it had been yesterday. That spot will always turn me on.

You can also use setting as a natural means for creating tension. And expanding your horizon can lead to some interesting results. Try thinking about settings that you would never think of as sexy. Here are ten of the least sexy places I can think of.

  1.  A bathroom at Burger King
  2.  The ICU at Mt. Sinai
  3.  My grandmother’s nursing home
  4.  The surface of mars
  5.  The Republican National Convention
  6.  The men’s room at the Port Authority
  7.  Webster Hall on a Saturday night
  8.  A Mets game
  9. The Lincoln Memorial in Washington DC
  10.  Any building in the world with the name Trump on it

Some of these might sound hot to you. And the truth is if I put my mind to it, I hope I could find something sexy about each one of them too. There was that cute nurse at the home, and I do like girls in baseball caps. The point isn’t to find places that disgust you though. It’s to push yourself to find settings you might have otherwise ignored, in the hopes that a new story will come to mind. If I sunk my teeth into Lincoln Memorial porn or the RNC I’d have to think of new reasons for people to fuck. I’d have to develop a plot to satisfy the location, and each one brings its own tension.
How would you write a sex scene that takes place during a hurricane? How about final exams? And what could you do with Maggie Thatcher’s funeral? If you can use your setting as a new tool to expand your style, your writing will improve. It’s simple, but also easy to avoid. Especially for us smut peddlers. All we care about are the naughty bits, right? Who cares if it’s Miami or Venice? Well, your readers do. At least they will if you do it right.

You can find the entire book, with lots of great exercises, over at Amazon.