Cold as a Witch's Teat

We had an ice storm this past weekend. That meant we were housebound and forced to do such things like talk to one another and cook our own dinner. I have to say that this was the best housebound experience I have had with my wife. I missed her whe she went to work this morning and that is a rarity for me after a cabin fever scenario. It occurred to me, like it always does when there is a weather disaster, that cabin fever makes for good sex stories.

I wrote a cabin fever story once about my experiences with the Flood of the Century. It was a couples 4-some story that I was never happy with. I think the major drawback to a cabin fever sex story is that after being forced to spend 24 or more hours with the same people, in the same space, all I really want out of life is some quiet time. I wonder if that means I am getting old.

Perhaps what I should do is a cabin fever story where the man and his loved one are trapped in their apartment and he decides that now would be a great time to play with some bondage. Especially the gag side of it. He then sets up some brilliant vibrator/bondage trick and blindfolds her before going to the living room and watching the Three Stooges.

Yeah, that will get me the fan mail.

Casting

The last few days I have written more than I have in weeks. I'm terrified to jinx it by talking about but at the same time I feel like I should report it in case I hit a writing block and I can't remember what got me writing last time.

The last few months I've had brilliant ideas. I've had unique story concepts that I have never seen before in erotica but when it came time to write, I had these slow boring starts. This time has been different. This time, I created two interesting people, and then worried about the story.

It's so simple, I am kicking myself. It wasn't the idea of a nutjob rich woman dressing as a pirate that made Cabin Boy good, it was Leigh, Drake and the boy who made it good. It wasn't the parodies in Thigh vs Thigh that made it so easy to write, it was the ease of writing about Amy and Bethany, two gals I came to love with each new story. I don't know if Claire and Mr. Dillon will stand the test of time years from now, but right now I love them and they have their own voices. I've written 12 very good pages and I feel like King of the World right now.

Now I just need to create an interesting wealthy eccentric who owns the book these two need to get and I will be set. Let the casting begin!

Inspiration or Parasite?

There are times when I feel dirty as a writer, and not just because I write porn.

One of the sad things about erotica is that there are ten cliches and every one writes those cliches. New ideas are as precious as gold nuggets. You can take a new idea and really run with it.

I get most of my inspiration from the geeky gamer's world that I live in. This is where the guilt comes in. I see a neat idea about a Ninja Burger Franchise http://www.ninjaburger.com/, and I really enjoy it. It takes the humor of fast food, and throws in Ninjas. Genuis. Then I think about sexual permutations on the idea. Yes, there have been pizza delivery boy sex stories forever, but what kind of sex story could I tell if I apply some fast food humor to a franchise that makes a business of sex with a side order of fries? The idea is not nearly as genuis as Ninja Burger, but good enough for Erotica's Ten Cliches.

The crisis is, am I a writer who is ripping off Ninja Burger by just removing the ninja and replacing it with sex, or am I a creative soul who uses inspiration where I find it?

Great Moments in Stripping

Today I recovered enough from my cold to do some writing. I blazed away and wrote a stripping scene that worked very well for me. I have a fondness for stripping and I always get a bit peeved when I read a scene that goes, "Amber stripped off her clothes and stood naked . . ." No, no, no! Write the damn stripping scene out!

It is impossible for me to write a stripping scene without thinking of the great personal stripping performances I have read/seen/experienced in my life. Since elements of these scenes factor into my writing, I thought I would share them here.

When I was seven, I was playing with my Star Wars figures and all of the good guys had been captured. I divided up the characters to their own prisons and death traps. When it came time to do soemthing horrible to Princess Leia, the idea sprang into my head to have her strip in front of the stormtroopers. To this day, I am not sure where I got that idea. I do know that the idea of humiliating Princess Leia and forcing her to do something against her will got me very excited in a non-sexual but very close to it kind of way.

When I first met my wife, she liked to tease me by dancing as sexy as possible. She often declared that I wasn't her type, but it didn't stop her from shaking her hips and curling that back. She didn't take her clothes off, but if she had, I would have stalked her twice as much as I already was.

The first time I went to a strip club, I was greatly dissappointed to discover that none of the women wore anything more complicated than a bikini swimsuit. Stripping consisted of the removal of their bikini top. Where was the business suits and school girl outfits promised to me by MTV and Cinemax? The strip club was in a rush to get girls topless as soon as possible. the girls themselves seemed bored by the whole thing and it was the first time I ever encountered the burned out sex worker that is so prevalent in HBO documentries.

The one good experience I got from the club was this little redhead. She was flat chested, had frizzy hair that Hermoine would have hated and a hook nose that belonged on a witch. Despite her disadvantages, the redhead danced like she was a Sex Goddess. This was a girl I would have never looked at twice, but she carried confidence and a pure sensual nature that kept my eye. It was like she was abosrbing worship from the crowd and I have never seen a stripper since that enjoyed herself that much.

The first time I met my current sub, she had dressed as a pirate for me as a suprise. I circled her and just soaked in the outfit she had put together for me. It was like a beautiful cake; it was too awesome to mess up by having a piece. I took my time with her, stripping one article of clothing and then engaging in serious heavy petting before removing another article of clothing. It might have been slow torture for my sub but for me it was the ultimate mix of stripping and control.

Back to writing for me.

Gotta Be The Cold

I have a scene in my head for the story I'm writing.

Last night after listening to my wife cough half the night and struggling with my own cold, I finally go to sleep. I dream that two porn stars want to use my house to film that sex scene, and there might be a 'part' in it for me, but my mom is over and she is being passive agressive with her disapproval.

There are so many possible issues with that dream, I think I'm going to ignore them all and chalk it up to my cold.

The Girl Sure, But The Monkey Too?

No writing the past weekend due to a cold, but I have high hopes for today.

But important things first: Why did they chain up the demon monkey? Okay, the girl is chained to the skeleton but what did the monkey demon do? Are or are the skeletons chained to HIM? Maybe he's driving! And if the guy in the beard is in charge, then why is he in the back?

I'm confused!

"Honeymoon of Horror" sounds like a great title though. It can be anything from a bondage story to a "Crying Game". Or it could be a High Gothic Honeymoon, complete with castles and wailing banshees. I know I'm intrigued.

FYI, I found the above cover at Comic Book Bondage Cover of the Day at http://members.aol.com/covers3/

Things To Do Before Writing II

Note to self-

Music with lyrics are really distracting while writing yet a lack of sound makes me feel like I am in a library. I really need to dig through my MP3's and create a writing soundtrack. I need instrumental, a little dance and most of all, sexy and important sounding music. I want to feel like the movie is starting and the music is blasting your soul clean of worries so you will give a fuck about Pirates and their exploits.

When Writing Is Good

I wrote today about the meeting of a librarian who manages an erotic collection and the apprentice who will be learning under him. It started slow but really started flying when the two actually met. There are some bumps and places I need to iron out, but all in all I was having FUN. That hasn't happened in awhile.

Part of the fun is just two people talking. I beleive now that perhaps my false starts these past few months is because I didn't have interesting enough characters. I had situations, but what I really needed was two interesting people who perked my curiousity. The apprentice is a young British black woman who used to be a Internet porn writer. The librarian is a fussy American who reads way too much porn on his job and starts to see the dirty and lewd in everything. I have two challenges ahead of me for tomorrow-

In a cab, Claire explains her job to a cab driver-

“These are not the kind of books you can call up and order. These are rare, erotic books. Sexual exploits of fictional and real life confessions that have been handed down through the years and collected for the pleasure of a few private individuals. Each book is a snapshot of sexual desire for it’s time period and it will be my job to gather and catalog them.”

The cab driver swallowed hard and the flush spreading across his face pleased Claire. “That’s a shit load of porn.”

Shitload of porn? That is very very weak. I want to get across that the whole idea embarrasses the cab driver and he doesn't want to talk to her anymore. What to say, what to say.

My other goal is that the librarian rolled his eyes when he heard Claire was an Internet writer. I want to get across that he used to do something really hardcore before be became the librarain, something along the lines of real world experience, but I am just blanking. Brothel accountant? Gardener for a nudist club? I want something sexy but not ridicilous.

Man, I miss writing.

Things to Do Before Writing

Note to self-

Come up with the damn names for the characters BEFORE you sit down to write. Cripes, I just spent twenty minutes debating what to name a black woman from Britain. Should it be completely British sounding or should it have some sort of ethnic flavor? Right now I am using the place name of Jane Doe. Ick, someone leave a better suggestion.

Paging Foreign Femme Fatales

Writing yesterday was a bust. I did a little, but I have lost a lot of my sheer skills. The wife suggested writing something short and cute, like my old Kiko stories, but I don't know. Kiko was always a smidge too surreal towards the end. It's hard to write good erotica about a character that was based off a joke about the state of superhero bondage fiction.

I decided to try my hand at something else, something lighter and less complicated than the story I was working on. While I was kicking around ideas, I came across that beloved stereotype- The Blonde Evil Russian Amazon. Remember her older sister, The Blonde Evil German Dominatrix? Wow girls, where have you been?

Even I know writing a story about evil Russians is terribly outdated. Hell, even in the 90's Hollywood was restorting to Eastern Europeans for their evil needs. It got me thinking on who is the Hot Evil Stereotype for the 00's?

Let's have auditions.

First up is Evil Middle Eastern Terrorist Chick. Sadly, she is wearing a head to toe Burka. Second of all, it's really hard to be a sexual femme fatale when you belong to a fanatic sect that considers women to be dirt and advocates stoning them for showing ankle. I know that moderate Muslims allow women to be lawyers and doctors and such, but moderate Muslims are not by definition evil.

Next up is Evil Republican Housewife. Yes, she's evil and she wants to throw away all your porn but again, her own religon prevents her from being sexy unless she is an In The Closet Hedonist. If she does that, then she is breaking type which nullifies her as a sexual stereotype. She might be interesting in a domination scenario where someone brings out her inner sex goddess and makes her renounce her Rupublican ways, but she doesn't fit the bill of Femme Fatale.

Let's go West from here and run into Asian Girl. With the increasing influence of Manga and Asian B-Movies, you would think we would have a more emerging stereotype. Sure, we have Asian Schoolgirls wearing those sailor uniforms, and we have plenty of Martial Art Chicks, but we had those stereotypes back in the 70's. The sheer flood of Asian culture has diluted their images from cliches to actual people. For every Chinese Communist Super Ninja, there's a Chinese Peasant Girl Who Giggles In A Delightful Manner. Arrrgghhh, where's the danger?

I can't think of what would constitute a Modern Femme Fatale. I don't think she's a Reality Show Bitch. I don't find Pop Stars scary enough to think they count as one. I wonder if as a society, we are too well informed to have Stereotypes like we did in the 60's. Then I will watch a political ad and see someone's career reduced down to two key words -Liberal or Conservative and I realize that stereotypes are alive and well.

I get this feeling that in 2012, I'll look back at this post and say "Shit, why didn't I think of _________." I just don't want to wait that long.

Knot on Your Life

I know I will never be a Shibari kind of guy but I thought I would improve on my knot skills. Let me rephrase that, I wanted to HAVE some knot skills. It occurred to me that for all my domination play, I had never tied a woman to a bed before. How did that happen? I'm much more of a mental domination kind of guy but sheesh, I should have one struggling woman on my bed sometime in my life.

Knots are a lot like writing in that a picture of the finished project tells you jack shit about how the person did it. I am amazed by how many web sites I have seen that show you a very loose knot and say "Like this". Like what? I need video. I need a wise woman in leather to manipulate the rope in such a fashion that I can rewind. I need step by step pictures with captioned commentary.

I made my first figure eight knot and I wanted to frame it. It was with a heavy heart that I unraveled it, and put it back together. Let me tell you, my heart was pumping when I tried to do it again. It was like I had accidently made something awesome and now I had to prove I knew what I was doing. When I succeeded, I think I had an erection.

Right now that square knot picture is like the Salma Hayek/Jennifer Tilly threesome I could only dream about. Wish me luck.

Thing I Did Instead of Writing Part One

Yesterday my wife, my submissive, my submissive's husband and I went to a lunch held by another local bdsm group. This was a much more casual affair and people wore colors other than black. They were a freindly bunch that had a speaker tell us about the joys of japanese rope bondage or as they call it, Shibari.

Things I learned about Shibari-

A> There is no school of Shibari, no classifications, and no way to really say, "I am a Master of XXXXXX Shibari." The speaker said that it is not an art or even a style; it's just people tying people up and each person does it differently according to their needs. Hey, that sounds like writing.

B> He was rather appalled by the idea of tying someone up and leaving them. He said he could never imagine doing it, and it boiled down to why would he ever leave a loved one in a helpless state? His inability to even emote with someone who was interested in that fascinated me.

C> He said that some of the rope bondage you see in art takes an hour to set up and then it is either too painful to keep them there, or just terribly impractical. He called "1/60 of a second bondage" referring to the time it takes to take the picture. I'm sure there is a metaphor about that and flash fiction somewhere.

D> He said that Shibari is easy to learn and easy to do but you have to do it constantly. You have to make knots all the time and unravel them. It takes practice and you do knots almost waking moment. He said that and I was like fuck, that's just like writing.

And for more info, go to http://www.nawashi.com/main.html

One last tidbit about the social gathering. A dom and his sub were at my table and I being the curious kind of guy trying to make conversation, asked the guy how did he meet his girl. he said she could tell it better than him and I got comfortable. Obviously this was going to be a long story of courtship, domination and eventual happiness. She looks at him, and looks at me and she says

"I was given to him"

She smiled and I smiled and then I said "Well, that's a short story."

I loved that exchange. He felt comfortable telling the long version, which is why he wanted her to tell it. She however did not and shut my inquiry down. She did it politely too I must say. I don't want to get into theories of shame, submission or relationship boundaries, I just loved that she shut me down and he didn't do anything.

That was the first half of my day.

The second half involved having my first alcoholic drink. My submissive's husband, a nice funny man, about busted a gut when he heard I had never had a drink. He apparently used to sneak beers when he was ten so he was a bit dumbfounded. He suggested I try something tonight and my wife freaked. It was a bit odd listening to her describe that a Shon Richards without inhibitions would be somesort of unleashed sexual machine that would cut everyone down with razor sarcasm and hump anything with two tits.

That convinced me to go have a few drinks and see if she was right. The reason I had never indulged is that my step-father was a drunk, and all the members of my mother's family has had addiction problems. It's really hard to want to have a beer when you recall your step-father picking fights with you when you were ten. It's even harder when you get to college and your roommate gets drunk every weekend and fills the room with the scent of vomit.

So we got to a bar to see the band http://www.groovebucket.com/ and I had some Hard Lemonades because I'm a lemonade kind of guy. I'll make a long story short and tell you what kind of person Shon Richards is when he has had a few drinks. He's a very unfunny guy who thinks he's funny. It was like I had no verbal editor. I would say something stupid and obscure and then two seconds later think "Why the fuck did I say that?" I had no idea how much mental thought went into be the cool guy that I am.

Groove Bucket by the way rocks. After years of living in a college town, it was strange to hear a band that knew how to play their instruments. They played Bob Marley's "Is This Love" that had me singing along in public but then again, that might have been the drinks. Their music was a range of old rock and new rock and I enjoyed songs I thought I had outgrown but it turns out I had not outgrown a good rock band.

Let me say one thing about the bar we went to. Granted my bar experience is limited, but this place was loaded with poker tables. It was odd to see someone sitting at a poker table order potato skins and steak. I'm trying to picture Kenny Rogers' Gambler chowing down on chicken thighs while knowing when to hold them.

I should really write today.

Old Man of the Whip

I'm tired so I'm just going with impressions-

The dungeon itself was awesome. It's 1763 in Atlanta. Really cool and something I would write. They had playrooms and a closet cage I would kill for.

Black is a real popular color. Wow. Lots and lots of it. Black Black Black.

I saw more bitchy subs last night than I ever thought could to exist. They bitched about the music, they bitched about how hard they were being tapped and they bitched about not having the attention they wanted. Gods, I had no idea how rare the idea of service is to the kinky world at large. It was a meal thingy, where you got your own food and found a place to sit. I didn't see a single sub become a table for their dom. Hell, I didn't see a single sub hold their dom's plate. WTF?

Speaking of meals, it was a lovely dungeon. No where to sit except the bondage benches and tables. Guess what they served to eat? Spagetti and Alfredo. Two of the messier foods I've ever eaten and they ask me to use their lovely bondage furniture to eat? Is this a test?

My favorite dom was an old man who was tanned from years of wrestling marlins. His hands were gnarled and his hair was stock white. I watched him whip a submissive for thirty minutes with more skill and grace than I thought was possible. I want to be him when I am 96.

They had private rooms with themes. They showed us a medical room and gave us a long warning that you had to prove you were qualified to use the equipment. Then they showed us a fitness room and moved on. What? No warnings for the fitness room? I have to get a doctor's permission to start an exercise program but the dungeon is cool with you cycling and being paddled.

Our hostess at the dungeon was hot. But then, I like blondes who say they orgasm at every tattoo.

My final thought- The dungeon was really black.

Dungeon!

Tonight I am going to a social gathering of bdsm people at a dungeon. There will be chains, benches and all sorts of furniture I have only seen in erotica. This will be my first time at a dungeon and strangely, all those years of playing Dungeons and Dragons did not prepare me for this.

I'm excited to be going but I have this irrational fear that it will be like high school except more people will be wearing leather. There will be a snobby Dom who picks on my glasses, a busty blonde who will snicker at my choice of shirt and an annoying kid who is glad to finally have someone below him on the social ladder and will try to be my friend. Plus, someone will steal my lunch.

On the other hand, I am Shon Richards. I have fucked thousands of people through my stories. I have made submissives and dominants across the world masturbate like crazy while reading my words. I have written sex games, scenes and bondage utopias that would blow their freaking mind.

I figure the two cancel each other out. I can't expect them to somehow understand that I write erotica and treat me like a porn star but I also can't expect them to give me a wedgie and steal my lunch. For me, I have to cancel my irrational fears with my irrational arrogance. With any luck, I'll have a good time and get to meet some new people.

Blogs, Video Cameras and Dirty Pictures

Once upon a time when I was 8, I was told to gather all the pictures together and the frames and we were going to clean them. We opened one small frame up and out poured six polaroids of my mother, very naked.

Yes, there really are naked pictures of my mom.

My mom snatched them up and I certainly didn't want to see them but I was curious how such an abomination were made. She gave me what now sounds oddly like the birds and the bees speech- When two people love each other, they sometimes do stupid things for one another.

It's really odd that I am not more fucked up than I am.

Years later, I'm a teenager raiding my step-father's playboys and penthouses. I was devouring naked pictures as only a teenager could. Yet even as young and happy to see tits as I was, it wasn't real. The pictures were too well lighted. They had make-up. Yes I was delighted to see Ms. April's wonderful D cup, but even my teenage mind knew it was not quite real.

In my senior year of high school, I was walking and ran across a polaroid. I picked it up and there were a dozen topless women smiling at the camera. I didn't think of my mother, but I did feel the real of connection. This was real. I don't know what the fuck these gals were doing, but it was more real to me than Ms. May's pet peeve of itchy men.

Years and years later, we have the Internet. We have hot amatuers. We have mpegs of people's private bedroom fun. We have gigabytes of naked women in bad lighting and no make up. We have digital cameras. We have pictures of real women with that Just-fuckeded look on their faces.

We have blogs.

It's a great time to be alive.

Foreplay

I wrote my first page today in a very long time. It is not a good page but it gets the job done. It can always be rewritten when the damn thing is done.

Here is the first paragraph-

Diana was late. She needed to be on the interstate ten minutes ago if she was going to be at the restaurant on time. Maureen specifically asked that Diana not be late this time and Diana was already blowing it. She was also blowing Michael, which is why she was running late in the first place.

Awful ain't it? I started at that paragraph forever before I said "fuck it, let's move on". This paragraph will not survive the editing process. The sentences are bad, the joke in the third sentence is juvenile and my editor can probably see twelve problems I haven't even noticed yet. I don't care though. Like the first time you go groping with your girlfriend, just the fact that you touched nipple is good enough. You can agonize over the fact you really just touched bra and thick sweater later.

Spirit of Writing

Will Eisner passed away yesterday. It's impossible to describe how great a story teller he was. He wrote for adults in a format associated with children. He elevated what you could do with a comic book and even his sixty year old stories made me laugh and think. I loved his creation, The Spirit, and I can never help smile when I see the masked detective and his femme fatales.

On a selfish note, I noticed that he died at the age of 87 and had just finished yet another graphic novel. If an 87 year old man can keep writing, than a 31 year old porn writer can get off his ass and write something, don't you think?

I'm not sure if you would appreciate a story about four friends with submissive secrets, Mr. Eisner, but you reminded me how precious good story telling really is.

Manifesto Time

I, Shon Richards, being of erotic mind and body do swear to uphold the principles of writing stories that are not cliches unless they are terribly entertaining. I swear to corrupt every aspect of life one story at a time until my readers can't do their taxes without getting aroused. I swear to write this year, something I used to do a lot but haven't done much of in 2004. I swear to use this blog as my erotic story bomb making shed and not let it get bogged down with observations on television shows, happening music or what is going on with my level 29 superhero in the game "City of Heroes".