I don’t do reviews. I have opinions that I’d rather keep to myself, unless an opinion is asked of me of course. But let it be told that this is in no way, shape, or form a review.
I don’t read erotica. Aside from Anne Rice’s “Exit to Eden” when I was 20 years old, which now, in retrospect, was hardly erotic. It was a story about sex. A lot of sex.
The dictionary definition of erotica is “the art of sexual love”. There. There’s the magic word. Love. It’s being able to describe sex without using the words “cock” and “pussy”. Which brings me back to the topic at hand and the reason for this post…
“Fifty Shades of Grey”. From the looks of my Facebook feed the last few weeks, I figured this was another “Twilight” movement and was NOT IN THE LEAST bit interested.
Until a girlfriend of mine who I respect sexually
oh, it’s not like that, get that vision outta your head suggested I check it out.
I. Feel. Sorry. For. Any. Woman. Who. Hasn’t. Had. A. Christian. Grey. In. Her. Life.
I’m not talking sadism/masochism. I’m not talking dominatrix-type shit. Not bondage or discipline.
I’d like to see him try to discipline me. One person’s kink is another person’s sex life right? I’m talking open-mindedness. There’s tasteful porn. There’s tasteful erotica. Man, it’s 2012. I’m sure you know what one can find on the internet. Get. To. Know.
I’m sad to hear about ladies who have no clue what the “Flutter” does. Or that female’s can and will ejaculate. I cringe when women don’t know the difference between said ejaculation and an orgasm. No. It’s not the same thing. And yes, you’d be surprised the amount of women who have no clue. Get. To. Know.
Unleash your damn
Savannah Anastasia. The stretch marks and that extra deposit of fat on your thigh don’t matter. He doesn’t care whether your lips are glossed up or whether your pussy is shaved okay, yes, he might care about that. Get it through your damn head….
When a man is getting pussy/head, he doesn’t give a rat’s ass what you look like. I have never had a lover say, “Baby, you’re not wearing enough mascara.” He’s more concerned about making sure that mascara smudges up your pillowcase while he pounds you from behind. He doesn’t care that you didn’t have time to flat-iron your hair. He loves your after-sex ‘do more anyhow. Trust. Me. And if you don’t trust me, then GET. TO. KNOW.
Go. Be. Lovely. And. Erotic. Open your mind and figure out how many “shades” you’ve got.
As long as you remember to wrap it up.
Oh and don’t forget to share your story with me ’cause you know I’m a freak.
One thought on “How Many Shades Are You?”
Flutters make the art of sexual love that much more inticing. Sexual love with no flutters is just sex…in my opinion…isn’t that much fun anyway. Well said. And a great and easy read as always