Sensuality, Intimacy and Love
Music that touches me, makes me want to do three things:
dance
write
fuck
Some songs are played in repeat, over and over during writing times. Each song for each mood, for each piece, for each book.
I created these playlists as the book “Rule of Ten” was pouring through me… Sensual Playlists
There I am, in the living room, sitting by the fan, this large phallic object, a tower of impressive proportions, if you see it as a member, as I do.
He used the dirtiest tricks, trapped my neck in turn twists, my leg between his, traced every single movement across my arms, my waist, my neck, my shoulders. He trapped my gaze, and I didn’t shy away, never.
I felt him getting happier…
He rested his forehead on mine and with the tip of one finger in each hand traced down my arms, a light touch until he reached my hands and interlaced his fingers with mine.
We stood like that, breathing heavily, number nine and I, for a while, his nose resting lightly on mine, eyes closed, breathing each other’s air. Letting the moment sink in, getting to experience each other’s skin, scent, energy. I felt his body through every point of contact, his thigh against mine, his belly against mine, his fingers in between mine, the velvet of his skin forearm with forearm. The heat radiating between us.
Our inhaling and exhaling matching, intensifying, deepening.
Then he moved his face and went for my mouth and his tongue danced with mine. We travelled to the centre of the Earth in those moments, before the door was opened and we were interrupted.
This is little taste of “Rule of Ten” a book that will come out at Amazon in the next couple of months, comment if you like it, so I know I’m on the right path.
I am a hell of a Woman, and I am a great catch, so stop expecting me to give you all before you prove your value. Something happened these days, with the availability of online dating that it feels like most men think that just because we are there at all, they don’t have to offer anything and should be given everything, at the ask of a phone number.
No. I am a hell of a woman, prove to me you are better than my solitude, and you shall receive my divine contact number.
I am not a perfect twenty-year-old body anymore. Instead, I am a goddess at the height of their power, a 48 year-old stepping into power, and very well put together.
I have the wisdom and experience to carry my baggage with lightness and grace.
I am productive within world chaos and can keep my bearings inside personal storms. I am intelligent and independent, and although I am not rich, there is a good chance fortune will find me some day, or not. What I already have is quality of life enough. I have a mission, and I know where I am going in life, and what I want from it, which is way above average.
Other than chocolate and coffee I don’t have other vices.
I’m reasonably sane and intensely heterosexual, and understand that for most men that might be a detractor, also I’m also intensely honest, painfully so.
I can cook, I can write, I can dance, really.
As modern philosopher Joey Tribbiani would say “what’s not to like it?”
On top of all, my Kundalini, is not a puppy dog, it’s a Goddess Dragon, mature, fully grown, awakened after a long hibernation, into new golden skin, free of yearnings and false hopes, expectations, and need for validation.
When the dragon stretches her wings and soars, the fire consumes and burns… my sexual energy is vital and pure.
In the past, when people asked me “but why are you single for so long?” a great sadness would settle on my shoulders, as if it was my failure to secure the elusive eligible bachelor, and I hadn’t been up to the task.
Now the dragon laughs “because, the knight deserving of the treasure hasn’t come along in this time!” They come, and they want to plunder. They want the gold, like thieves in the night. They forgot about honour, and value, and proving themselves.
I have kindness in my heart, and so much love ready to be offered, like piles and piles of precious stones and a hall of treasures, to the one that breaks the spell. All he needs, is to be worthy.
I inhale his scent, his warmth, his youth, his deliciousness and know that for a few seconds I’m facing no one, so I can close my eyes in the wrongness of this rapture.
His body is against mine, in a vertical expression, as the music sings that if dying of love is possible, of it, I shall die.
This isn’t love, oh no, with this young buck, this is not exactly lust either.
It’s a sensual profound desire to show him the heights of pleasures I could take us to… Ah he could be so green.
But he moves with me in perfect harmony, the hips sway in absolute enticement, the hands keeping me captive, one on my back; the other keeps my right hand on his heart, I can feel it, the drumming against my palm, the soft touch of his palm against the back of my hand. And then he turns us and I face the crowd, the other dancers, no longer safe, no longer, my face is hidden from judgement.
I open my eyes to pretend it’s a normal dance, that he isn’t killing me, that there isn’t a dragon perched behind my neck, full fletched wings, the spam of three worlds opened, breathing fire over us.
Burning me, killing me, I’m falling.
time, the final frontier… a while ago I wrote an erotic book. Not a romantic novel, not a sweet erotica, a book so erotic if it’s printed it will leak sperm from it.
The famous Fifty Shades only takes our lovely housewives to a threshold and leaves them there, panting without ever crossing some lines or pushing them beyond certain comfort zones.
My book is not for comfort zones, not for housewives, not for virgins, women who want to inhabit the submissive or un-empowered roles.
This book is for the character who wants to be the centre of attention, who wants to know what it is like, in detail, to have multiple partners.
The niche is for heterosexual women with a very strong preference to bed men. Who like their masculine traits and everything about them.
During the time when I tried to sell it, I discovered a new word to describe it: INVERTED HAREM.
Gotta love it!
A few years ago I tried to sell the book to appropriate publishers and get myself a related agent without success. After several refusals, I left it. The energy to self-publish, then, didn’t come. So I left the book rest because the story was not technology dependent, and wouldn’t age.
I let it breathe and age.
time passed
My writing grew. I grew. My writing voice transformed and I became so much more powerful in my writing. Now I have reviewed the book.
The first chapter was challenging, technically, because the setup was complicated. Now I have the writing ability to make it clear and interesting to read, which before I didn’t as much.
I am so happy now, the new manuscript is delicious. I am sending it for the editor for proofreading and shortly it will be available.
Watch out for the “Rule of Ten”…
No more virgins!
I feel like picketing the streets with signs and screams.
No, nothing against the actual virgins, the people who haven’t fucked yet, or the star signed virginians. Just the amount of erotic stories about virgins with much older man. WTF?
By the number of copies sold, older women have to be reading this shit. Pardon me, it isn’t shit for virgins fixated in father figures, but for strong women, it should be…
Since I’ve awakened my sexual dragon I went in search of some erotica and the highly ranked ones are all the SAME! And there are so many of them! It’s difficult to find good quality ones that fall away from the old same stories.
I admire the Grey trilogy for what it brought us, a legitimacy of erotica, paradoxically, an empowerment of women sexuality, a greater ability to discuss it in the light of day. I admire the writer’s bravery and what she achieved even though I don’t particularly admire her writing. She deserves all her success.
However, for me, her books were like bad sex, you can’t stop in the middle, but in the end you are left frustrated, angry and unsatisfied. And that’s okay. I’m not the target. For me, the reading was more a case study than anything. I heard a rumour that she wrote Fifty Shades because the Twilight series left her unsatisfied. So maybe this is my turn. I’m writing my erotica because Fifty Shades left me unsatisfied.
So, I’m declaring here:
No virgins.
No 15-20 years difference either way.
No broken woman who has gone through a break up, or divorce, or has been fired, or is financially destitute and now received a life-line from someone in a small city, usually in the U.S, and has to be rescued or completed, or remade.
No Formulas.
Maybe a few cliches, come on, love is love, sex is sex, I have to work with some known vocabulary!
Instead I’ll give you a strong heroine who, from a place of power, who has made a courageous choice to embrace opportunity. Her chance is to fulfil, in one stroke, all her sexual fantasies and conquer her life goals. It will be simple: saying yes. But not easy.
It will take bravery, audacity and barring herself in every possible way, then telling it all.
Gimme the shivers.
You wonder what you look like, this middle aged woman, with round edges, wild hair, grey roots showing, walking shoes, bright yellow and blue shirt, dancing in the rain, in the middle of an empty park as the storm approaches. Arms to the sky, music only in your head.
You can’t look in, it’s been too long, away from big mirrors, dance schools, dance shoes.
All you know is that this is what happens when the dragon’s wings spread wide. You dance in the park. The country’s deluge is a blessing. No one is around, the floor is yours.
You give yourself to the goddess and receive her blessings, not caring one bit what you look like. You dance like no one is watching, but you secretly wish someone is.
Aphrodite-Reads 