The explanation of this little flash is probably longer than the piece itself. It came out of a little discussion Will and I were having about the preferences of men and women in erotica. We both know that there’s a huge spectrum in tastes and preferences, but sometimes it seems that there are predominant differences in perspective. There’s the whole “visual vs. sensual” contrast, for example. Again, never universally true, but common enough to often make us think “women are X way, men are Y way”.
I have favorite erotic fiction from both men and women, though mostly women. One thing I noted that women writers can tend to spend more time on setup and background less on ‘action’ (which could be considered a stereotypical male term to begin with). Will pointed out from his interactions that some women found the ‘action’ in male-authored or male-voiced stories to be tedious. I cracked a joke in response to that, which resulted in this.
By the way, what do you, dear reader, think?
“Oh, my god,” she said from behind my shoulder, “You read this stuff? And it gets you turned on? It’s like a gynaecology class!”
I nearly hit the ceiling. It’s bad enough to be startled when you’re concentrating on something, but 1) being startled by your reasonably new girlfriend, 2) while you’re reading porn on the net, and 3) when you were about to fish your dick out of your pants for a wank because she wasn’t there… it all adds up to a serious freak. I have to say I handled it with panache and aplomb.
I told you. I’m eloquent.
“Oh, don’t sweat it. I read it too. But not *that* stuff. I’m a girl, we like atmosphere. Build-up. Y’know – foreplay.”
“Buh.” I assimilate new information very quickly. I just don’t let on.
“I don’t mind all the description if it’s done well, but there’s so much of it, and the action – it’s so tedious! It’s a simple biological function that can only be described mechanically so many times before it gets boring. There has to be more before and after.”
“Um. Ok. So… you don’t mind I’m reading porn, but I’m reading the wrong kind of porn?”
“The wrong kind for me, at least. That’s not the porn I would write.”
“Yrg. You *write* porn?!” I am *so* damn quick!
“Well, yes. A little.”
“Ummm. Can I read it?”
“You are *such* a boy.”
“Guilty.” I half turn to look at her. She’s beautiful in her halter top for the summer sun, and she has on one of those short pleated skirts. The kind that show enough thigh to make me drool.
“OK. I have an idea. Sit here. In front of the keyboard.” I am a fucking genius.
“…All right. Wait. What are you doing?”
“I’m hiding under the desk. You don’t see me.” Did I mention subtle? I’m that, too.
“Yes. Now I want you to write exactly what is happening.”
” ‘ My boyfriend is being a pervert’ “
“Ha-ha. Now open your legs and tell me if you think this is tedious. You write down every tedious detail, please. For me.”
“Why you – Guh!”
“Type!” It’s hard to talk with a mouthful of pussy. But such is the price of fine literature…