Evenin’ Rumpies! Hope you’re all well. Loved the Cosell/Ali video, Bear! I’ve been away at a writing retreat with some friends. I didn’t finish many poems but I did manage to write a new story (in the queue) so I count it time well-spent.
Anyway, I’m back in the world and finding it’s worse off than I left it. Bourbon, please, to ease the pain of re-entry.
Lightly, lightly, the tip of her tongue held me on the edge.
Morning Rumpies,
Hope all the sore ankles and butts are mending well. Bear, could you sneak a shot of courage in my black coffee?
There must be an erotic crossword puzzle in this paper everyone is always rummaging through. Anything but the grim news of the world.
~Reggie
Quote by armagnac
If a fictional story written by me makes an impact on someone and triggers a certain sequence of physical events, then my writing becomes a "material force" whether intended or unintended.
For example, I write a steamy sex scene and someone gets inspired enough to proceed to have an intercourse with his/her spouse to their mutual satisfaction. Do I deserve a credit for providing that inspiration?
Let's now assume that I write a story on sex, jealousy and betrayal that somehow hurts an emotionally sensitive person. Although I may not be responsible for that person's actions, but hurting is real. Do I bear any responsibility for that hurting?
The answer could be "Yes" to both or "No" to both.
For example.
"Yes and I should never write anything anytime anywhere," or
"Yes and I do not care about someone getting screwed as a result of my writing,"
or just plain "No."
In sum, this is a matter of personal choice.
Q.E.D.
As with everything he writes, I think Armagnac’s observation is on the money. When a reader, here or elsewhere, says they were moved/excited/challenged by something we’ve written, we happily take the credit for that. What could be more thrilling for a writer than to hear that your words have purchase in the mind of another? Earned praise is a pleasure to own.
True, we are only partial owners of those experiences. The *right readers* are willing (some more than others) to play along with a story. We don’t inject our stories into passive readers with a hypodermic needle. They have to work with us: filling in whatever open spaces we leave, suspending disbelief, curating their own experience or imagination to complement and amplify what they’re reading. Good readers earn whatever pleasure they take in your writing.
“Erotica” can mean a lot of things to a lot of people. I was fired up, when I found this site, to dive in and read all the genres that get my motor cranking (wife lovers, swingers, cuckold, etc.). The keys in many of those stories happen to fit many of the locks in my fantasy world, so I’m very happy to explore alongside those authors. I very often ponder, though, the psychology of my obsessions. So many of my fantasies require me to push through a membrane of pain. Why not fantasize about something less conflicted?
And I guess that brings me back to Kimmi’s question. When I write about my fantasies, I play with my own pleasure and my own pain. When I publish those stories, I invite myself to play with and alongside others’ pleasure…and their pain. The “right readers” will know how and where and how much to safely and pleasurably add their own pain in the mix. But the unprepared, or unlucky, might find a key that unlocks the door to the wrong pain—the first awful betrayal, the deep wound, the true fear. Would I ever intend to hurt them? No. Did I create their pain? Of course not. Did I hand them the right key for the wrong lock? Yes. I did.
I like your question (and your follow up) because it doesn’t blame the reader for their own found pain (even if pain makes them blame you). I like it because we live in a time that is tragically devoid of soul-searching. But I’ve read a fair amount of your work, and many others in this thread, and I mostly like the way you write to explore your own mind(s). We all know exploration can reveal terrible things. Especially when we’re looking for them. But exploration has revealed every good thing we know.
[sorry if I’m blathering. My internal moderator has the night off.]
I was held at gunpoint in a guy’s backyard.
I was working for a power company replacing old power meters with cellular ones that could be read from the pole. It was hot. I was tired. No one had answered their door all day in this neighborhood. So I skipped knocking and went from back yard to back yard to save time. I had just pulled the old meter and was pushing the new one into the clips when I heard the hammer click back and the gun barrel brushed my ear. “What the fuck are you doing?” he shouted.
For better or worse, I usually have an answer for everything. But I could not summon one word. Nothing. Eventually, I pointed to my power company badge with a shaking hand.
He lowered the gun. “You’re a stupid motherfucker, ain’t you?”
I remembered a word. “Yes.”
“I think I’ll join him in the backseat,” she said. “Keep driving.”
Home early, I’m surprised to see strange shoes in the mud room.
Saturdays, she wakes to me kissing her shoulder, hand roaming hip, thigh…
Morning all! Looks like the special is spam and eggs? I’ll have that with a coffee as black and bitter as Trump’s soul.
Kimmi, how about “You Must Be This Tall To Enter”? I leave it to you to draw the ruler.
Afterward, I reach
for your shoulder needing just
one last touch to sleep.
She always asks, during sex, “which friend should I suck off next?”
A serious ecdysiast called Mabel
Practiced striptease on a library table
I would add (I’ve only read the last several posts, so this may have been covered elsewhere) that aftercare is incredibly important. I had long fantasized about threesomes with another man. It took lots of years of exploring the fantasy before we defy to give it a go. I wanted it to JUST be sex. The idea that my wife (we play together) would have another man in her bed was a huge turn on. The idea that she would have another man in her heart was crushing.
So we chose a very non-threatening guy for our first go. Met him at a munch (fetlife) on one occasion and just chatted. Hung out together another night with some handsy exploration but no sex. Then finally did the deed on our third encounter. It was amazing. We talked about it for days.
But it definitely set me on edge. I needed a little more attention, a few more “I love yous” and touches than normal for a couple of days.
But the jealousy, in whatever dosage you can tolerate, is part of the pleasure. In my case, we’ve been married for a long time. Long enough that I hadn’t felt jealousy in decades. That ache pulled me closer, clarified my vision, reminded me just how sexy she is.
Hi Kite,
I’m sort of new here but wanted to thank you for this post. I saw this link in your signature line on one of your Rumplations posts today and decided to glance at it. An hour later and I’m really glad I did.
My regular doc of 20 years has just retired and I have an appointment with my new Dr. next month. I don’t think I have any symptoms (when you say “reduced flow” what do you mean? a trickle? a little less force?) but your post turned this from an abstraction to something I want to take seriously. I have a lot of cancer on the maternal side (though I don’t recall prostate cancer being on the list) so I’m slowly becoming more vigilant about this sort of thing.
Anyway, just wanted to thank you for documenting your struggle for the sake of others…and to wish you luck in your recovery.
Depends. When I think it’s an important decision, I try to take my time. But all too often I act on instinct. I’m luckier than I am smart!
What’s the sexiest thing you’ve ever done in the snow?
Obviously, I’m pretty new to this site, but I’ve developed a pretty hard shell when it comes to getting 1s (I got three on one story). It’s the 3s that sting—“Meh,” is so much worse than “I HATE THIS.”
But what spiky slug crawls into someone’s butt to make them leave a 2?
Would the next person heading into Kistin’s stall please deliver this mimosa?
What is “SS”?
Just finished round one of snow-clearing. We have almost a foot of heavy stuff. Should get 6” more by then end…
Head down, with her ass up in doggie
she awaited her turn for a flogging
