Tuesday, July 23, 2013


Following Lisabet’s line of thought I must admit writing gay erotic fiction has taken  me to places I never thought I’d go. When I wrote gay mysteries, the sex was muted—you know, if it was a movie—slow camera pan from the lovers to the flickering flames in the fireplace. Made you want to yell “Eyes off the flames and back on the flamers!”

Then a friend asked, “Why don’t you at least have them giving head? Open up the bedroom door a little.” Wow. Tentatively, in the beginning, I drew from my own fairly…uh…wide experience of my youth, and it was amazing how much came rushing back to me as I pounded the keys of my pc. Memories came whirling through time and space—standing at a urinal at the Albert Hall in London when a handsome dude glanced over and said “You have a nice dick.”

A nice dick. I didn’t like the word dick. I preferred cock. Dick was, in my opinion at the time… well…insignificant…dare I say it? Small. Cock, on the other hand was proud, out loud proud. Still I was glad he liked my..uh, dick.

Writing erotica words to describe private parts can become stilted—his manhood, her mound of Venus. Sometimes hilarious, his pole (please, a pole summons up thoughts of at least something  a foot and a half  long!) Her void (WTF?), his rod, (a friend of mine’s name, kind of like dick), her abyss ( fucking scary), and so on.

Then there’s the ACT…sometimes even scarier.

“He stretched me to beyond anything I could have ever imagined in my wildest dreams.” I don’t know about your dreams, but being stretched “beyond anything” is not something I could ever want to happen to my nether regions. No sir, thank you, go away, unless you’re a vampire and can heal it with a kiss.

“His lips were everywhere at once.” Huh? How’s that possible? Maybe if it was Mick Jagger.

“Every part of me hummed and throbbed with passion.” I’m not sure what this means.Enlightenment anyone?

But back to the words Lisabet was writing about—here’s the one I love the best. In 1928 a Frenchman—wouldn’t you know it?—wrote a book called, in translation, “Irene’s Cunt.” Can you imagine that title  in today's mainstream literature? A review stated that “Despite its title and subject matter, this is not an erotic book. Its French nature lies in the rich, almost surreal, language it uses, as well as the way it treats of matters which reach to the heart of human sexual relationships.”

I’ll go with that, because despite the way people may regard erotica as base, it always deals with the meeting of two (or perhaps more) souls, some fleeting, some lasting, but always about the heart of human relationships.


  1. You've got me chuckling, JP, even though I suspect I've been guilty of some sentences almost as ridiculous. Great sex inspires hyperbole.

    I've never been that fond of "dick" either - it has the same connotations for me as you cite - but I'll use it occasionally for variety.

  2. Getting back to what Lisabet was saying in her post, I almost feel like using "dick" is characterization in itself. In my experience, only a certain kind of dude can get away with saying it, but when he does say it, it works for me. (And when someone else says it, it has the connotations you describe).

    You've made me really want to read Irene's Cunt, and, now that I've written that sentence, to write a story called, "Reading Irene's Cunt."

  3. Yeah, "Irene's Cunt" - it has a certain 'je ne sais quoi' alright!

  4. I don't know where you got your examples, JP, but I've written waaaaaaay worse. Still do.

  5. I just realized that I'm more sexist than I'd thought, since I don't much mind men being called "dicks" as a pejorative as much as I mind women being called "cunts." And calling men "cunts" to put them down makes my blood boil. Even more than calling them "pussies," which may or may not be be meant in exactly the same way, but still signifies considering anything related to females as despicable.

  6. Interesting topic. I noticed that no one has mentioned "John Thomas," the name applied by the male central character to his, uh, plumbing in Lady Chatterley's Lover. I love the idea of sex organs with names of their own (which is why I feel partial to "dick" and "rod"), but I could never bring myself to use "John Thomas" in a story, since I would seem to be introducing a new character. ("Excuse me! Who the heck are you? "John Thomas, at your service.") "Cock" seems to have the advantage of being widely known and largely accepted in all English-speaking cultures. However, an editor once complained about my frequent use of this word in a story that was too full of barnyard metaphors, in her opinion. (Part of the story takes place on an actual farm.) Sigh.

  7. John Thomas was on my mind when I started the post - don't know why I didn't include it. Always felt sorry for the actual John Thomas's of the world. Cocky boys indeed.

  8. John Thomas. Johnson. I feel sorry for anyone named Dick Johnson. Tricky Dicky?


  9. Ha! Fun post, JP.

    I do use 'dick' a lot, and now that you've mentioned it (and I've thought about it in this context) it may be when I have a male character who isn't too sure of himself. Thanx for that.

  10. When I was in college back in the 70s, the head (ahem) commander of the campus ROTC was named, Richard Head. Much amusement ensued.


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