The meat of the matter.

In romance and erotica writing, the men have large penises. I've not read a story about a man's thin or short cock, even though every single heterosexual woman out there knows that they come in all shapes and sizes.  And every single one is capable of bringing great pleasure. Not only that, we also know that too-big cocks can hurt.

So why the obsession?  After reading Nancy Friday for many years, I culled the following theories:

1. Fantasies are symbolic of what someone wants in their life. A dream of a big penis, a huge, giant monster that fills you up and satisfies you - well. Sounds like a shout for MORE MORE MORE, doesn't it?

2.That MORE MORE MORE isn't just about sex. It's about wanting more excitement, more time to relax, more ease and just plain more fun. Nothing represents a really great day better than a big, hard penis.

3. It's also a bit of a boast - "I'm such a powerful woman, it takes something powerful to satiate me and please me."

4. That shout of MORE can also represent frustration with the "Good Girl" role - you know, the one where a woman is shamed if she initiates, shares her fantasies, is experimental, or just plain curious. Talk about a rebellion! Desire for more starts every revolution, even a small one where an individual simply wants the freedom to read what she truly wants.

Those are my theories. What are yours?

The best intentions

I was going to post my next archetype in my series, but it's actually a little sunny out! So instead, I'm going to post something naughty and go enjoy the sun. I hope you enjoy this untitled snippet between two unnamed fantasy people.

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His cock, not quite fully hard yet, fitted her mouth completely. When he was erect, she couldn’t fit him all the way. She wrapped her fist around the base of his penis.

She had unseemly large hands for a woman, but her fingers still did not meet, his girth was so great. Her jaw stretched to her outermost limit as she gobbled his smooth, hard cock.

She sucked on his head, licked his shaft, teased his balls with her fingers and tongue. His thick body hair scraped her tongue as she barely brushed the tips of the curls with her tongue. He jumped and shivered. She flung her arm across his thighs and drew him deeply in to her mouth, over and over.

“Enough,” he growled. He flipped her over to her back. “Give me this.” He shoved her thighs wide apart, his hands holding her down. He breathed on her pussy, long and deep, as if she were something exquisite to eat. His sweet, sweet tongue descended to her body. Expecting a firm, direct stab to her clit, she squealed when he licked her labia with a flat, wide tongue. He petted her pussy, coaxing her lips to widen for him. Once she was moaning and writhing under him, he finally touched her clitoris.

Her throat pulled tight. Her body curled in, her abdomen pulling her head off the pillow. The sensations coiled in her hyper-sensitized organ. Tighter and tighter she squeezed, her face pulled in a nearly painful rictus. Could she make it? Would he take her there?

With a clever twist of his mouth, everything exploded. Her body uncoiled violently, her back arching. Her hands grasped the headboard. The metal sang in time with her screams as the unending crests over took her.

Merciless, he sucked every drop from her pussy, every moan and cry inflamed him further until his cock skin nearly split.

She lay, panting and heaving, tears sparkling at the corners of her eyes. He put her legs on top of his shoulders. He knelt between her legs and fitted the head of his erection inside her swollen, twitching vagina. He pushed.

She screamed again.

He pumped inside her clinging walls. He licked her smooth legs as they rested against his neck. Her hands flew over his body, touching his nipples, but still too shy to pinch. He kissed her calf.

He met her slack face, had she ever looked so abandoned and relaxed? He had to feel her on top of him.

He tucked his legs and tipped backwards. He rolled them until she was on top of him. A quick leg stretch, and she was riding him.

As he slammed her up and down on him, he wiggled his finger to her no-longer-hidden treasure. Her hair whipped back and forth.

With a huge ripple, she came again. This time, she took him over the edge, too.

Mating rituals.

I love the modern ritual of meeting people for coffee. It's the perfect way to test the waters, to see if you and another person are at least on the same page for relationship interests. As romance writers, we often throw our hero and heroine together under really crazy circumstances. I always like the, "If you want to live, come with me!" sort of introductions in books. Gets the chemistry going in a big way.

But there has to be a way to write the coffee date to be just as wild, crazy, and risky as the high speed run in a growly muscle car.

I sense a writing exercise! If you  write a coffee date that feels high flying, I'll do it, too.

Taking a break.

I've been doing some heavy duty writing about archetypes. Today, I decided to talk about my wonderful day yesterday.

I got to spend an afternoon with a dear girl friend who is always working, so this was a rare treat. We hung out in her hot tub, drank champagne, slathered ourselves with lotion, and talked about everything, including sex. Some people get uncomfortable with such intimate discussions, but I am always fascinated and delighted with them.

It's when people are the most likely to share their deepest emotions. It's when our pasts and our presents come together (no pun intended) to reveal what we most need in our lives.

I always want to honor those brave enough to share their secrets with me. I want to take their bravery and vulnerability into my office to inspire not just my love scenes, but also the limits of human courage - the very soul of what makes fiction important.

I had great writing day today. How about you?

Give-away!

Titled, "Green Flash"

A brand-new hand painted fan, signed and delivered to you.

Today, you get to guess the movie quotes. Be the first person to name the movie, and win this lovely!

Quote 1.
"This is just so shocking. I mean I must just be so monumentally naive."


Was that too hard for you? I'm such a sweetie, I'll give you a second clue!


Quote 2. 
":Shut up, Mr. Burton! You are not brought upon this world to get it!"

Story Basics Part IV: The Threshold Guardian

Fu dogs are an excellent example of Threshold Guardians.

One of my favorite archetypes is the Threshold Guardian. The Guardian serves as a challenge to the hero, a test for her to prove her worthiness and her resolve to continue her course of action.

In both real life and in a story, the Threshold Guardian

represents the ordinary obstacles we all face in the world around us: bad weather, bad luck, prejudice, oppression, or hostile people....But on a deeper psychological level, they stand for our internal demons; the neuroses, emotional scars, vices, dependencies, and self limitations that hold back our growth and progress. It seems that every time you try to make a major change in your life, these inner demons rise up to their full force, not necessarily to stop you, but to test if you are really determined to accept the challenge of change. (Vogler, The Writer's Journey, p. 58)

In a story, the Guardian is the antagonist's head of security, the Sphinx and her riddle, the army of the Wicked Witch in the Wizard of OZ, bouncers, doormen, entrance exams. A hero and a person must learn how to deal with these tests. You can run, attack it head on, use deceit, bribe or appease the Guardian, or make an ally of them.

Again, Vogler:

Successful heroes learn to recognize Threshold Guardians not as threatening enemies, but as useful allies and early indicators that new power of success is coming. (p. 59)

Think of who or what has been a Threshold Guardian for you. How did this energy show you what you had to do?