I have been writing erotica now for quite some time. Since 2002 off and on.
Basically I write for heterosexuals — and perhaps WHY I do that is because I am one. So, I know that act inside and out. We are living in a time when gender is an unsolid thing. But not for some of us.
I don’t have to imagine the sex act in any form, because I have done it. So when I wrote a sex scene that is what you get.
So while Abandon is NOT BDSM it does have this element of the masculine in it!
In fact, the horses are used in the piece because of the very extended foreplay between the male MC and the woman he wants to dominate. So, here is the mare from the piece — he is using the stallion and the mare running wild because he sees the MC as being like this:
So, some lines from yesterday — what he has done is “seduce” the MC Jules into wanting him by controlling the entire experience of how she is going to be with him.
The story is at about 2880 words.
All the sexuality is built into the foreplay scenes.
Here ya go!
Suddenly she saw another photograph on the ledge. It was of a man’s hand with a large and imposing watch, gripping the vulva of a woman from the rear. His fingers were inside of her, her bottom upturned. All Jules could see was that it was just like the mare. She slid the two pictures close together to compare them. The same puffy vulvas, one who had felt the stallion, and one who had felt the man.
She was no different. He was going to violate her, stripping her of everything she had ever known.
On the photograph of the man’s hand he had written, “From now on, your orifices belong only to me.”
Jules stared at the hand and wondered if it belonged to Jacques. The fingers were small and stubby, but they gripped the woman like a stallion’s might. Her bottom seemed relaxed under his hold on her, Jules thought. She was dressed in garters and stockings, and the bareness of her upturned bottom curved against his hand. That was all Jules could see of the woman. She was only a cunt, upturned, probed by fingers. The sight made Jules wetter. She could hardly explain it.
Looking at the picture she knew that Jacques was going to do this to her. Her lips parted as she drew in her breath, her own bottom clenching hard over and over as she stared. The pants she had been holding fell to the floor.
For more heteorsexual literary erotica go find me in Goodreads or Amazon. You want my book “Gardenias”
I may turn this into a novel — it’s very sexy so far.
I write character interiority on levels people rarely get to read in all of my short stories.
Not everyone is compared to James Joyce or Anais Nin, but I have been.