Story of O – Writing the Orgasm in Erotica -2

Tags

Adrea Kore, conscious sexuality, erotica, ERWA, Female Sexuality, My Secret Garden, sexual fantasies, shame-free sexuality, women writing sex

“I am gone in a liquid cascade; my edges

dissolved in the ecstasy

that you catch in your palm

Cupped to your mouth, then mine

The taste sweet, clear, as lychee nectar”

(Excerpt – Threshold – Adrea Kore 2013)

Welcome to Part 2 of ‘Writing the Orgasm’, which I guess could also be subtitled “Why I Write Erotica”. I’m aware as I write this, that although writers often have underlying reasons in common for writing what they do, their reasons may also be very different. For some erotica writers, it may be escapism. Some writers may laugh at my taking sexuality so seriously. But it doesn’t mean that I don’t explore the playful aspects of sex in my writing. Sex is an aspect of human creativity and self-expression – the playful is just as important as the intense or the serious.

In my erotica writing, I reach for a tryst between the truth of sensation and the tease of imagination. I’m engaged in translating the sensations of sex into imagery, in a way which will transmute back though the body of the reader into arousal. In this way, erotica is a kind of sex.

So, what are other reasons I feel called to write what I do?

For centuries, it is mostly male authors have spoken for the female sexual experience in literature. Our bodies have been filtered through male eyes, male observations. This language does not emerge from inside the female body, but outside it. How do women articulate desire for themselves? How does it differ from how men write us sexually? I agree that sometimes the difference isn’t discernible. Nin wrote about sex admirably well from the male perspective. Some of my contemporaries like author Ronnie Strong have impressed me their depiction of their female characters’ experiences and thoughts around sex.

Touch

Tags

conscious sexuality, erotica, self-pleasuring, shame-free sexuality, Wicked Wednesday

She blooms. Blooms as she touches. Blooms as she touches herself. Blooms bouquets of fleshy scarlet-streaked lilies. Blooms deep-hued violets and whispers of honey-suckle as she meets fingers with secret skin. Blooms eloquent roses in tints of cockleshell, and the tenderest of pinks. She blooms.

She dares to hold a mirror to herself, and sees her fingers are like rays of sunlight, enlivening her  petals, opening her to receive. She sighs into that sunlight, lets it caress her, unfurl her, penetrate her with warmth. She blooms.

Fascinated, she sees the petalled folds breathing in and out with her pleasure. Rippling curiously under her touch, watching them flush crimson with shyness as they hide again. Shyness like a maiden, yearning truly to be seen … and as she continues to touch in wonderment, knowing for the first time what her lover sees, there rushes a flood of nectar from her depths, glazing her folds with honey. Breathing deep now, her posy of scents is wildflower and shaded forest floor; moss and night-blooming jasmine.  Showering in scatters of pale gardenia amidst dark tendrils of hair curled like fern-fronds, it seems she can hear her sex sigh with rapture. And she sends her fingers a-gliding, a-hiding, reappearing in her little mirror’s reflection glossed and bedewed.

She tastes herself, fingers syrupy in her mouth, and she is sweetly sharp like the cries erupting from her. She is swirls of desire (and oh the undulating patterns her sex makes in this dervish of pleasure, how magnificent her cunt is to harness so much power in movement.)

The mirror is her lover’s eye, the mirror is her proof of self-acceptance, and as she opens in release, floods in earthy ecstasy, she is both sunlight and rain nourishing herself. She blooms.

Almost without her noticing, she feels the tired brown husks of no-longer-needed shame drop away, drift silently away.

She falls back, spent, languorous, imprinting in her mind’s eye, the image of her sex in all its carnal delicacy. She blooms.

She knows she need not fear herself any longer.

This piece is dedicated to all women who are engaged at any stage in the journey of leaving behind body-shame and moving towards deeper self-love.

❤

  © Adrea Kore 2013 (Not to be reproduced or reprinted, in part or in whole, without permission of the author)

Submitted for Marie Rebelle’s Wicked Wednesday Prompt #188

“Believe in Yourself!”

Touch is also featured on Cherish the Cunt, an inspiring blog on all things cunt-wise, in a post entitled “Self Pleasuring her way to Cunt-Love” by the gorgeous Colette Nolan (October 30, 2014).

Touch is also now part of author / speaker Molly Moore’s Pussy Pride Project, and you can read other contributions and get involved by clicking the link below. I love the idea of this project, and am delighted to be a contributor.