Normally eroticas are written by men, for men, thus most of the times an erotica takes no interest in even attempting to tick a female’s mind. Of course, none is to blame here, its abt the quantity which wants the graphical details and thats that to it. Of course once in a while, you get to see a few good erotica written with a mind, a mind that thinks how a female would like to read something that she would call erotic. I’m not saying I don’t enjoy graphical natured eroticas, its just that I’d also need same amount of what we call romance, a connection beyond the mere physical, a logical explanation for things. And thats why i’ve always loved reading Akasha and Amity, because they are female and they have this element in their eroticas. I love writing too, and will be writing as soon as I get enough time and drive to pen my fantacies and realities down. smiles. But anyhow, right now what I’ve read recently was one of the kind. I don’t know the author, it was send to me by an anonymous reader who knows what I’d like to read.
I’m putting an excerpt here, wishing to know who is the author, and if at all, he/she has written more, I’d love to read them.
“Men are strength incarnate: they are courage bound up in muscle -the sort of muscle that bulges eternally, in any situation, tirelessly, sweating. Men are combative by nature and heroic by design. They surge with passion, commanding obedience to their will – which erupts bold ideas from the hard terrain of masculine flesh.
They are not weak. They do not give in, surrender, or yield. They defy and rebel by genetic command. Testosterone. Men are grand-scale sperm cells, swimming against the current, writhing with insuppressible force – against the odds – to the elusive egg.
Testosterone. Muscle. Power.
Ironically, Terrence would have been the scrawniest wimp to succumd to these stereotypes all his life. And, ultimately, he would have let himself down: would’ve seen himself flag and flail in the face of the Hercules myth again and again – how can a mere man be a godlike myth? – were it not for the liberation that Shari gave him. No, not gave him: forced upon him. Shari was the elusive egg-cell at the climax of his life: that goal which tells him to stop swimming.
You’ve made it, Terry. You’re here. Now shut up.
Shari effortlessly coiled the collar of dominion around his neck.
Shut up and do your job. Make me happy.
Sometimes Terry wondered if it didn’t him less of a man to be submissive. Were submissive men inherently less manly than the commanding, bullyish Man of myth and stereotype? Were all femdoms necessarily the keepers of half-men? Men with the spirit of manliness stripped from them? Men with their testicles reduced to mere ornaments to their dommes’ power? Did the societal definition of masculinity and femininity mean that submissive men were no longer “men” at all? Was the notion of female domination of men self-refuting? Or were men ultimately warriors who had to serve a woman’s pleasure? A woman’s law? The sperm cell that strives toward the egg like something bound on a leash?”