Archive for Much Too Good For Children

On Letting Go, Part II

Posted in A Womens Flower, Enhanced and Fortified non-fiction, Letting Go, Love, Mature Theme, Memoires of a Post-Neo Dharma Bum, NSFW, Polyamory, Possibly Dangerous to Everyone with tags , , on May 12, 2015 by dreamlanddancing

On Letting Go, Part II

(Love)

When they first acknowledged their mutual attraction, he had described his feelings for her in a poem entitled “Pandora’s Box”. Although he already feared they were crossing a point of no return, neither of them ever intended to upset the delicate balance of forces that were necessary for both of their families to remain intact.

They knew it would be difficult to maintain sufficient discretion to avoid being swept away by emotion and passion. They loved their spouses and children too much, despite the longings they felt that had been ignored at home for too long.

They each had told their respective spouses of their friendship, and initially neither of them had gotten particularly alarmed, partly because both couples had been swingers long before the romance had fizzled, but Elvis had definitely left the building a long time ago.

He had once told her, shortly before she volunteered, that he supposed he needed to find a woman as committed to her family as he was to his. He did not wish to replace his wife any more than she wanted to replace her husband.

Neither she nor her husband were completely on board with polyamory, and at that point, neither was his wife. It was acceptable to screw other people (especially if they were together when it happened), but to express feelings of affection, let alone love was most definitely not, although it was she who first spoke the words.

They believed that the tender affection that was developing between them would allow them to trust the mutual respect and deference that would be required of them to nurture each other in a way that they could take back to their families, so as to inspire and energize the romances that had been so significant in their absence at home for too long.

Seeing himself as reflected in her eyes was spell-binding. Her admiration and love for him transformed how he now saw himself, and he suspected it was doing the same for her.

They knew it would not be easy but they had the highest and best intentions for everyone in their lives…including each other, and they believed in each other in a way that had taught them to believe in themselves again. They also believed that, no matter what or where it all might end, that they would remain close friends forever.

It didn’t matter that it would be difficult. The Pearl of Great Price is believed to be daunting to acquire, but they trusted in their hearts that they could accomplish anything together, although in the process they had unwittingly stumbled into The Kingdom of Heaven.

And when it was over, he only wished to be able to let go of her without letting go of the love he felt, or the feelings he had experienced…welcome to Hell.

Forget Pandora’s Box…it now seemed as if it would have been easier to put the smoke back in the cigarette.

It had been a year since he had seen her last. She worked in an eye clinic that was in the same building as his doctor’s office. It was also the location of his son’s eye doctor. He knew she was there, but had avoided contact with her. It had been much too painful for both of them when they were forced to stop seeing each other, and they really never had the chance to even say goodbye.

Although they never had any issues with each other, their spouses had plenty, and it had been because of them that they were forced to end it. It had started as a workplace romance, and she had been terminated suddenly and without warning, partly due to her alcoholism, of which he had only the faintest inklings.

Six weeks later, despondent, drunk, and unemployed, she tried to take her own life, and went into rehab.

They had been the most unlikely-looking couple one could imagine. He was short-statured, muscular, but a bit overweight, as well as twenty-five years her senior. He had been a charming rascal in his youth, but those days were far behind him and he felt dead inside. The greatest love of his life had become estranged to him, after two decades of marriage.

The year they got married, she was fourteen years old.

By the time they met, he had come to believe that he doubted he could even be attracted to anyone who would want to fuck him.

Not that his wife wasn’t quite beautiful herself (and also much younger than he), but it had been over four years since she had expressed any desire to make love to him. She had even told their eldest son that “…It’s just over…there’s nothing left….”

He had first noticed this woman destined to become his work-spouse when they were moved into adjacent cubbies, but she was six feet tall, blonde, thin, much too young and beautiful and had a sweet personality that matched her perfect figure. Although they quickly began to engage in playful banter, he did not even dare to hope that it would become something so intimate so much more quickly than he could have ever thought possible.

She said her incongruous Hispanic surname came from her black Puerto-Rican father to whom she bore absolutely no resemblance. It also turned out that she had in fact not married the father of her two children, although they had lived as man and wife for over thirteen years.

Their mutual senses of humor were uncanny. Despite the fact that he was often self-absorbed, complicated and irreverently intellectual while she was completely straightforward and unselfconsciously goofy, they fed off of each other like George Burns and Gracie Allen.

Even he could not explain how well she seemed to get him, despite his frequently obscure references and viewpoint. Their antics and repartee buoyed the spirits of everyone around them in an environment that was both stressful and oppressive.

Surprisingly, despite her beauty she had become somewhat introverted and a bit of a wallflower before receiving his admiring provocations. Her husband seemed to play upon her insecurities with cruel criticism and too little acknowledgement or validation, perhaps because he feared her beauty.

A friend of his had once confided to him that he had always regarded her as plain, introverted and shy before either their romance, or the blooming of her blossom. Everyone in the building noticed the change in her countenance, and attributed it to some heretofore unrealized qualities and talents that he must have possessed, which completely changed how everyone regarded him and caused no small speculation about where his talents had lain (or laid depending on how you speculated or conjugated), which helped explain why their romance was so graciously accepted by their peers.

They had worked together in somewhat close proximity for over a year before even he had noticed her at all before, but he seemed to bring out the clown and the extrovert in her, and she loved him for it.

Without her around he could be more than a little aggressive, critical, intimidating, confrontational, negative, and depressed. He did not do much to filter anything that came into his mind or out of his mouth. He shocked many of his fellow employees and offended almost everyone at one time or another.

A friend once described him as an “acquired taste…like Scotch Whiskey, Cuban Cigars or anal sex” but somehow when they were together his “big balls” and her good-natured sweetness seemed to make everyone smile…despite the fact that their scandalous mutual admiration and affection could not be ignored.

Although he was by nature more discrete, she unselfconsciously wore her emotions on her sleeve. They had the same lunch and break schedules, and everywhere they went she hung onto him as if she never wanted to let go. She towered over him and it was impossible to ignore their mutual idolatry.

It was odd to see them walk together, like watching a giraffe being escorted by a gorilla. Although they made the most unlikely looking couple, once you got used to seeing them, it made perfect sense.

He was quite the gourmet chef, while she on the other hand, could screw up hamburger helper. Once, when she had neglected to bring something to eat from home, he offered to share his meal. She had only tried once to make something for both of them….

After that, by mutual agreement, every day, he prepared his elaborate meals for both of them which they ate together on the patio.

One day a passing co-worker saw the pasta Florentine they were eating and said “How sweet…just like the Lady and the Tramp” whereupon she jokingly replied in a stage whisper to her paramour (as well as anyone within earshot) “Did he just call me a tramp?”

“…not unless he also just called me a lady” he replied.Their humor never seemed to miss a beat.

To look at him, he was in fact the picture of The Little Tramp, and he even had a tendency to walk like Chaplin’s most famous character. He had long ago abandoned the concept of “dress for success” for a telemarketer’s job where the public never saw him.

He jokingly referred to his wardrobe as “a walking clothesline” alluding to the first stanza of the Rolling Stones’ song Jigsaw Puzzle.

Cargo shorts, some kind of rock and roll tour t-shirt, sneakers, and either a Dickies work-shirt or a Florida (not Hawaiian) collared shirt worn open and not tucked in over the t-shirt like a sport coat and either a baseball cap or a Viet Nam-era “boonie hat” were his standard apparel yet it still was not ample warning for his sometimes outrageously unconventional personality.

It was originally only supposed to be short-term employment until something better came along…it never did.

In “previous lifetimes” he had been a chemist, a teacher, a film-maker and videographer, an audio engineer, a professional guitarist and recording-studio entrepreneur, a television repairman and cable-TV installer, armed body-guard, firearms instructor and general “gun-bum” before becoming a critical-care certified paramedic until Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder made even that impossible.

He never stayed in any field of employment for more than six years until he became a medic, and his romances and previous marriages were equally short-lived before he met his “Goddess” who had given him three children, two of which were his own.

Oddly, shortly after he had become infatuated with this Lolita (who herself was thirty-something) his sales figures went back through the roof despite a severely depressed economy.

As sweet and good-natured as she was, she was also a bit of a simpleton and all she desired was to be Eliza to his Henry Higgins.

Her name was Virginia but to everyone else (including her mother and husband) she was Ginger, although she confided to him that she thought it sounded too much like a stripper’s name. Of course, he called her Virginia, but much later, whether he crossed Virginia Avenue to go to work, or used ginger in some dish he prepared, or even when he drank gin, he could not seem to get her out of his mind.

Despite the fact that he and his wife had reconciled and renewed their own romance, there were only two times when he did not think of her at least once a day…when his mother had died and later, when his brother died. He neither tried to remember nor to forget her…but he had come to believe that it was inevitable that he would be forced to confront his attachment to their now-forbidden romance.

There would be other times, other places, other lovers for both of them, but their time was over. Like cut flowers that would either die unappreciated or be harvested and brought indoors to be admired, we are all here for just a moment, blossom and die.

Everything in between is a choice.

The last time he saw her it was impossible not to hear the catch in his voice as he watched her try to discretely brush a tear from her eye. They both realized they would never forget each other, nor would they ever be the same and that they would probably quietly carry each other in their hearts until the day they died.

As he stood there, he felt a distinct tearing sensation . It was like something was being ripped from his chest.

As he walked away, it was as if he felt the breath being sucked from his lungs, but instead of panicking, he just leaned into the sweet pain of his realization that it was finally possible to let go of his attachment for her without forgetting what their love had given them.

Somehow in the scheme of things, that was enough, and much more than he could have hoped for when they had crashed into each other so long ago.

On the long drive home, he tried to think of how to tell his wife about his revelations regarding their encounter without re-opening old wounds.

Nothing came to him until days later when he decided to write this story.

Namasté

नमस्ते

Chazz Vincent 05/08/2015

TTWDWW: Maybe someday, right after You Think it Can’t get any Worse…and then it Does Anyway….

Posted in A Dirty Mind is A Terrible Thing To Waste, Civil Liberties, Dangerous and Unsavory ideas that are possibly harmful to the weak-mided and overly simplistic and religious, Dirty, Erotica, Explicit Sexual Language, First Amendment Rights, Literotica, Mature Theme, Memoires of a Post-Neo Dharma Bum, Much Too Good For Children, NSFW, Philosophical Sexuality, Possibly Dangerous to Everyone, Post-Neo, Sex, The Power of the forbidden Word, The Talking Monkeys, This Thing we do with Words with tags , , , , , , , , , on April 24, 2015 by dreamlanddancing

This Thing We Do with Words, a slight return.

Part Eleven

Maybe someday, right after You Think it Can’t get any Worse…and then it Does Anyway….

It is also darkest before the Storm.

And so we come to ideas, concepts, and thoughts….

So much writing is formulaic, because if you want to get published…if you want a large following of readers, you have to consider that most film producers or publishers have so little imagination.

Every time new ground is allegedly broken in some area, the rush to judgment is to look for the next “Fifty Shades of Grey,” or whatever copy-cat trend is peaking at the time. Enough said.

Charlie Kaufman, Lana and Andy Wachowski, and Tom Tykwer remain some of the most notable exceptions to the rule as regards both screenwriters and directors. To my knowledge, they do not do erotica. That is unfortunate…for Erotica.

Virtually all great modern literature breaks, or at the very least bends whatever literary conventions and common period practices that are in place at that moment. Naked Lunch, Finnegan’s Wake, Howl, and Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas are all good examples for different reasons, although none of them are erotic, despite the fact that when they were originally published, Naked Lunch, as well as most of Allen Ginsberg’s writings were considered “dirty”, and subject to censorship.

Originality makes its own rules as it goes along while the rest of the world tries to follow or copy it, but only after first suppressing it. We are long since past the time for Erotica to do the same.

We’ve had more than enough suppression of art and culture in general for too long. Politics and Religion are the root cause, but as long as citizens are willing to trade their civil rights and liberties for safety and security, from an ever-increasingly parental and disapproving government, it will only get worse.

It’s hard to believe that it has been over fifty years since the sixties (the generation that took twenty years to act out), which may have been the last time our culture openly embraced the eternally questioning mind.

Fellini stated that he believed that in some ways, censorship helped stimulate creativity by forcing more creative ways to work around the limitations it imposed…perhaps.

Born out of reaction to the regimes of Dwight Eisenhower, Lyndon Johnson, Richard Nixon, racial prejudice and discrimination in general, Vietnam and decades of sexual and cultural repression, a political and cultural revolt was inevitable.

In this country, it provoked brazen challenges to tremendous social, cultural and political evils and unconscionable repression, fueled by a general state of mind that openly rejected hypocrisy and injustice as the worlds of Art, Film, Literature, Music, Sexual Revolution, as well as Political and Cultural norms exploded in defiance of a world that had gone wrong for too long.

“…I stood around Saint Petersburg

when I saw it was the time for a change….”

(and)

“I watched with glee as your kings and queens

set the barricades

for the gods they made.

…Pleased to meet you…

Hope you guessed my name….”

(Rolling Stones/”Sympathy for the Devil”)

It has been far, far too long, and maybe our time will come again, if we but choose to stand up and howl…not to repeat ourselves, but to re-invent ourselves timelessly, proudly and shamelessly.

Nothing is sexier than a truly authentic person living their life passionately and fearlessly with boundless curiosity, little reservation or caution, and few regrets.

Time to fish, cut bait, or swim.

Namasté

नमस्ते

Chazz Vincent

04/23/2015

 

TTWDWW: Shock the Monkey

Posted in A Dirty Mind is A Terrible Thing To Waste, Confessions of a Mad Philosopher, criticism, Dangerous and Unsavory ideas that are possibly harmful to the weak-mided and overly simplistic and religious, Dirty, Enhanced and Fortified non-fiction, Explicit Sexual Language, First Amendment Rights, inspiration, Mature Theme, Memoires of a Post-Neo Dharma Bum, Much Too Good For Children, NSFW, Philosophical Sexuality, Possibly Dangerous to Everyone, Post-Neo, Sex, The Power of the forbidden Word, The Talking Monkeys, This Thing we do with Words with tags , , , on April 24, 2015 by dreamlanddancing

This Thing We Do with Words, a slight return.

Part Ten

Shock the Monkey

I can think of two descriptive phrases I have used that were almost too off-putting to have considered using, and yet…the image that came to my mind as I envisioned particular feelings or situations left me compelled to use them.

One is clearly not erotic, and the other one is more of a sensual prelude to develop the erotic aspect of a particular character.

“…that sudden realization came upon him like hungry wolves running down lost children in the snow.” (There is nothing sexy about the phrase of course, but that was not my intention.)

Or (In describing one woman seducing another):

“She found herself transfixed and powerless to resist, like a child being lured into a van by some familiar stranger with candy, or a puppy…”

These may still be too bizarre a juxtaposition of images to be accessable to most readers as erotica, but I firmly believe that it is through the eyes of artists and writers that we learn to expand our visions of the world…it’s a dirty job, but somebody has to do it.

It would be safe to say that both are forbidden images. I am neither a pedophile, nor do I take pleasure in the misfortune of children… EVER…but it is in the very nature of the forbiden word or image that empowers it.

Namasté

नमस्ते

Chazz Vincent

04/23/2015

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TTWDWW: Define Your Purpose, Choose Your Audience

Posted in A Dirty Mind is A Terrible Thing To Waste, Dangerous and Unsavory ideas that are possibly harmful to the weak-mided and overly simplistic and religious, Dirty, Explicit Sexual Language, First Amendment Rights, Mature Theme, Much Too Good For Children, NSFW, Polyamory, Possibly Dangerous to Everyone, Post-Neo, This Thing we do with Words, this thing we do with words with tags , , , , , , on April 24, 2015 by dreamlanddancing

This Thing We Do with Words, a slight return.

Part Seven

Define Your Purpose, Choose Your Audience

Let’s face it, most of the great works of our civilization are now almost never read at all, and certainly would never have become famous or commercially successful today, especially given the “idiocracy” of our semi-literate cultural and educational system.

Much like the question “would you rather be right or happy?”, one may well ask “would you rather be famous and rich, or masterful and original?”

I am also reminded that even Literotica in and of itself is not my primary objective.

It is my goal to write creatively, imaginatively and never look away. As a result, I get my strongest support from my fellow travelers in the Kink/Fet community in general and Polyamory in particular.

Although I generally have come to believe that my lack of singularity of purpose as an erotic author has caused some to regard me as too esoteric, while the “serious” aficionados of Post-Modern Literature (or perhaps Post-Post-Modern) may find me too sexually preoccupied.

Sadly, as the practitioners of Post-Modern continue to age, it may all too soon become Post-Mortem. I prefer the label “Post-Neo”.

Most erotica has suffered from its narrow perspective. The fact that its primary intent is to sexually stimulate the reader is not a bad thing, it is just limited.

There is no reason one cannot be intellectually and sexually stimulated at the same time, and in fact for me, it almost has to be that way.

To me, Life is erotic. Mystery is erotic. Challenge and Adventure are erotic. “My advisors” tell me that criminal activity is also erotic, and Danger is most definitely erotic.

While the rest of the entire animal kingdom is dancing to a tune called “Let’s Fuck” Man alone tries to separate brains, hearts and genitalia into convenient categories, (despite whatever Feud may have had to say on the subject) as if they operated independently of each other.

There are few stories worth telling, let alone reading or listening to that do not have an undercurrent of erotica within the actualities of the entire story. As a culture, we are still so conditioned by embarrassment regarding sex that we think that there is no relevance to include it in “serious” works.

The film “Einstein and Eddington” is a perfect example.

Most people would not equate General Relativity, or Quantum Mechanics with the backstory of a man with both a family and a mistress, but then again, I personally find both subjects to be very sexy…but maybe that’s just me.

I was heartened to learn of his polyamorous history. I was already aware of his idiosyncrasies as well as his amazingly off-beat humor, but this just garnered more respect for him in me.

He was fearless in very fearful, judgmental times.

Although the film did not explore the erotic details of Einstein’s life, given the narrative, I believe that there would have been tremendous potential for truly erotic dramatic action.

After all, who knows what a man with enough imagination to come up with the Theory of Relativity might be capable of in the bedroom, or who-knows-where else? If they lived “in my perfect world”, they would have all gotten a house by the sea.

Namasté

नमस्ते

Chazz Vincent

04/23/2015

 

TTWDWW: Men and Women

Posted in "Magic Hat", A Dirty Mind is A Terrible Thing To Waste, Dangerous and Unsavory ideas that are possibly harmful to the weak-mided and overly simplistic and religious, Dirty, Explicit Sexual Language, First Amendment Rights, Mature Theme, Much Too Good For Children, NSFW, Possibly Dangerous to Everyone, Sex, This Thing we do with Words with tags , , , , on April 24, 2015 by dreamlanddancing

This Thing We Do with Words, a slight return.

Part Six

Men and Women

We clearly are not either programmed or hard-wired the same, and therein lies the real challenge…how do you write erotica for both sexes…can it even be done?

Whether it be adult film, or erotic literature, clearly women’s standards are much higher, and require a more sophisticated approach.

A man is less likely to sit through a great deal of artsy prologue to set up the characters or provide any motivation (other than pure lust) unless there is sufficient hard-core action to justify the investment in time, money or effort.

In this respect, men have been more drawn toward film, and less likely to read erotica, while film producers had to refine their game to appeal to a female audience.

One of my favorite erotic writers (see above, previous posts) described an erotic encounter quite splendidly in terms of narrative action, yet the way in which she described the dramatic action of the mental and emotional Flamenco dance going on within her character gave me insights into her psyche in a way that has illuminated my male perspective of sex and her push-pull dynamics of conquest, surrender, dominance, submission, victory and vindication and has left me forever changed, providing a new gold standard for my own writings; not to copy her style…so much as her outlook, or approach, as well as to view sex through a woman’s eyes, and feel it through her heart.

This is not just simple rhetoric, or choice of words, but rather a new paradigm for a three-dimensional description and analysis of everything sexual on many different levels.

After all, the smallest human brain dwarfs the even the largest human penis.

She also stated that as much as she feels comfortable with the word “pussy” she found herself perplexed by the use of the word as a derogatory expression of one man describing another man. She also appropriately asked if men like pussy so much, why would they use the word to insult each other?

I had to think about that one for awhile….

I have come to believe that it is out of fear and insecurity.

Macho bravado (and old-guard politics) aside, the only advantage men have over women would appear to be upper body strength, and possibly spatial equations.

Genetics and hormones easily account for the upper-body advantage. My own experiences involving police and fire department physical agility tests have reinforced the paradigm that when it comes to core strength as well as lower-body strength, we are about equal.

I also think the perceived advantage with spatial equations is a result of environmental and behavioral influences. After all, if a woman spends most of her life being told how “that” was nine inches despite the fact that it clearly wasn’t, it might get confusing….

Also, another friend of mine once coined the term “Magic Hat” to describe her vagina because it certainly did seem as if it was much larger on the inside than the outside. She was fortunate enough to have plenty of opportunity to prove it to be true….

So much for spatial equations.

Females on the other hand are routinely more robust and healthy at birth than males, and mature more quickly. The sexual superiority of women is inarguable. Now matter how sexually satisfied one man may be capable of rendering a woman, the chances are that two men could have done it better, and she would have been more than capable of thoroughly satisfying both of them.

Not to mention that the vagina in the toughest, strongest, and most resilient organ in the universe. Stretch it, and she begs for more. Pummel and pound it with a penis (or two) until there is not an erg of energy left in your body and she may love you for it if you do it right, but most men will not be lucky enough to stay awake long enough to hear her thank them for it afterwards.

(It’s not our fault…in the days of our progenitors, those sleep-inducing hormones secreted after ejaculation probably allowed the female to escape Homo Erectus’ cave after being dragged there, so as to facilitate the perpetuation of the species.)

Now the tables are turned to where the latter-day cave-man (Homo Moronicus) believes “you don’t pay her to have sex with you…you pay her to leave”.

Man has clearly not evolved as rapidly as the female of the species, and deep within our souls, we know it.

“It can stretch a mile before it will tear an inch” and still snap back like a new rubber band. If men had to birth children, most would die of shock from the pain, and we would have become an extinct species long ago.

Like a Timex watch…they can “take a lickin’ and keep on ticking”…(in more ways than one).

It’s more like a matter of misplaced Envy of something they do not understand, and few men are capable of comprehending anything that can bleed for five days and not die.

Because even the most feminine and “girly” women are so characteristically underestimated and marginalized by most men, “tom-boys” and lesbians intimidate those men in dysfunctional and unhealthy ways that often result in derision and fear.

God bless all women everywhere in all of their magnificent diversity. I still cannot comprehend how they find us attractive at all, or why they are not all lesbians…I know that if I were a woman, I would be.

Balls, the twin symbols of everything masculine, on the other hand are so unnaturally sensitive as to render men vulnerable and fearful. If you were to treat them as roughly as one might a raw egg, even the most virile chest-beating alpha-male can be rendered into a quivering, sobbing mess. Regardless of Achilles’ heel, I can guarantee his balls were even weaker.

In my life, I can only remember less than a half-dozen times when I was fortunate enough to simultaneously bed two women with enough stamina and endurance that they both expressed they had had enough…at least of me, and for the time being.

Most of the rest of the times, I felt more like a novelty or toy shared between them as they pleasured each other in my most grateful presence.

Most men are just not vagina-friendly and don’t understand the difference between liking “pussy” and loving women.

Namasté

नमस्ते

Chazz Vincent

04/23/2015

 

TTWDWW: The Bigger Picture

Posted in A Dirty Mind is A Terrible Thing To Waste, Mature Theme, Much Too Good For Children, NSFW, Possibly Dangerous to Everyone, This Thing we do with Words with tags , , , on April 24, 2015 by dreamlanddancing

This Thing We Do with Words, a slight return.

Part Five

The Bigger Picture

Sometimes, between going through the motions of living my life and trying to make sense of, or simply record the here and now of the ever-present/never-present present moment, as a participant/ observer/reporter, I find it distracting to obsess with just the right word or phrase, at least at that moment.

The re-writes and editing should provide the impetus to revise the original.

And then sometimes, even on the re-reads, a simple cliché or “shop-worn phrase” (which is itself both a cliché and a shop-worn phrase), used in much the same way that a mason uses smaller stones to balance and fill the spaces between the larger ones, they may be good enough as we build our story without calling attention to itself, because although I would be the first to point out that it is the journey, not the destination, taking six pages to properly describe the texture and composition of the road, or claiming that the hero or heroine refused to travel a certain way because they disliked the name of the road is too much quibbling over semantics.

Namasté

नमस्ते

Chazz Vincent

04/23/2015

 

TTWDWW: Descriptions vs. Specific Words or Sounds

Posted in A Dirty Mind is A Terrible Thing To Waste, Dangerous and Unsavory ideas that are possibly harmful to the weak-mided and overly simplistic and religious, Dirty, Explicit Sexual Language, First Amendment Rights, Mature Theme, Much Too Good For Children, NSFW, Possibly Dangerous to Everyone, This Thing we do with Words with tags , , , on April 24, 2015 by dreamlanddancing

This Thing We Do with Words, a slight return.

Part four

Descriptions vs. Specific Words or Sounds

So it would seem to follow that as tenable as any choice of specific erotic words may be, the real challenge remains to effectively describe something.

By definition, any choice of commonly used words associated with sex are in a sense a cliché compared to original descriptive phrases, but then again there comes the point of convenience overriding originality.

I also like the use of words to create sounds that produce specific gut reactions…not onomatopoeia per se, but rather sounds that trigger feelings.

Like the Sibilance of S’s…(Hiss at a cat, and see what happens). Resonances can be be provocative…hum the letter M in a lover’s ear, and you get my drift. Labio-dental affricatives like F’s and V’s are good, but they pale in comparison to the implied speed and power of Z’s or the inherent mystery of X. (By the way, I drive a Nissan 300ZX…speed, power and mystery….)

The other problem, of course is the repetition…how do you prevent it? There are only so many suitable words.

Take a word like box. To use it to describe a vagina is so lame and déclassé as to make it (I hope) beyond the realm of possibility of ever hearing or reading it in anything erotic (possibly because it reminds me too much of my teenage years in New Jersey, somewhere between Comedy and Tragedy, between Avalon and Philly).

The only conceivable use of Box might be to have it used in dialogue to establish an unsympathetic portrayal of an unlikable character. Most erotica is not complex enough to introduce unlikable characters, in much the same way as they almost never involve average-or-less-sized cocks.

But to use the expression Pandora’s Box as an indirect allegory for instance, to an initial intimate contact fraught with crossing a point of no return that can never be undone imparts dramatic action to simple narrative action.

The word snatch has been done a disservice by its vulgarization and associations with the “type” of people who use it, but if you think about it…as a verb, it means to grab, to catch, or to ensnare, either forcefully or serupticiously…with no implied intent of ever giving it back.

If one catches something there is a more neutral connotation. If you catch a cold, it is a passive act.

I have never heard of “snatch and release”, even among sportsmen, yet “snatch and grab” has the all the allure of crime and danger.

Like Garam Masala, Cayenne, or even Cardamom, each has its own flavor that can either spoil or enhance unless used judiciously.

There is a time and a place for even snatch.

I like snatch.

Namasté

नमस्ते

Chazz Vincent

04/23/2015

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Open Thought Vortex

Literary Magazine for Open Hearts and Minds

simple Ula

I want to be rich. Rich in love, rich in health, rich in laughter, rich in adventure and rich in knowledge. You?

NSP GoStranger

~ Poems,Novels and Life Events..

❣Emotional Queen👑

🎭दो चेहरें हैं,दो लहज़े हैं मेरे...और हर सवाल के दो जवाब "एक मैं जो लिखती हूँ दूजा तुम जो जानते हो"!! 👑Queen Of My Own Thought❣ #MyBlogMyFeeling

Analbarbie.

Meine Lust am Leben!

Death, The Life Story

Tracing a life through stories of death. Sometimes funny, sometimes not.

Chaotic Shapes

Art and Lifestyle by Brandon Knoll

Masturbation Monday

Where getting off is half the fun...

Lyfes Poetry

BLog Hard Or Go Home

stormy musings

Whatever, whenever

Nature Art

Photography, Creative Writing & Art by SAJIA AFRIN

Broken roads of Destiny

“Love recognizes no barriers. It jumps hurdles, leaps fences, penetrates walls to arrive at its destination full of hope.” — Maya Angelou

An Obvious Oblivion Blog

🍃 Fully Living The Unfinished Things Of Life Through Writings. 🍃

Living to help other disabled people, and people in need, Change the sign!! And Earth

I been online since 1994. I seen the internet at its finest. Then the World joined and fucked it up

Blog Femme & Infos

"La mode sans vulgarité"

latinagrrl177

daily life in a family of 8.....

Felicity Johns

This site is rated for MA audiences only.

Peri şair karanfilli

Nefesime,hayatıma,aklıma esen her şeye dair.

Too much Too soon

Live rat race

cakeordeathsite

What would you choose?

The Over The Line Show / Podcast 42

The OTL Podcasting Network

CinnamonAndSparkles

If I had a power color, it would be sparkle. Landon Brinkley

Diary of a Married Woman

Power Exchange and Letting Go........

A Boy and Her Dog

Traversing the Border between Butch and Transgender

freeing excalibur

He who holds the sword, owns my heart

Analbarbie.de - meine Blogfavoriten!

Analbarbie - Bei diesen Blogs lese ich gerne mit!

Meine Musik^^.

Ich liebe Musik ... kann ohne nicht sein! Hier gibts alles über meine Favoriten.

Ingwerlatte reloaded. Leben und leben lassen!

(Vive et vivere sine)² - Leben und leben lassen!

The Chrysanthemum and The Sword

“Each time we face our fear, we gain strength, courage, and confidence in the doing.” “Even a sheet of paper has two sides.”

Molly's Daily Kiss

A Kiss is Just a Kiss -

olivia submits

...the journey continues

toraprincess

a married woman's journey into D/s

Christina Strigas

You can't break up with a soul mate

The Art Of Fearless Living

Being afraid is human, but staying afraid is a choice.

Milenanik3's Blog

Just another WordPress.com weblog

vinnieh

Movie reviews and anything else that comes to mind