Apparently, the biggest selling genre on the Kindle is erotica. That means, if you see someone reading one in public, statistically they’re aroused.
This got me thinking.
Maybe I should turn my hand to writing some smut.
Not just any kiss though.
This was a really passionate kiss with tongues and jaw ache.
He teased his fingers through her hair, avoiding most of the knots, and wondered if it was coffee he could taste in her mouth. The tiny puckering noises their lips made reminded him of sucking a lollipop.
God he wished she would suck his lollipop now.
By which he meant his penis.
She broke away from their embrace, tugging her top over her head and throwing it aside. It hit the cat, making it yelp and hiss, but he didn’t care, because he could now see more of her flesh and he wanted to do things to her that you only read about in smutty books.
His hands snaked up and … I’ve just realised my Mum reads this blog.
He jiggled her delicious wooberries in his manly, well-toned biceps. She seemed to enjoy it, so he did it some more, this time with a gormless look on his face.
She took off her jeans.
That was promising, he thought. He might be in here.
In, as in about to get lucky, not you know, a euphemism for sex.
He reached around and unhooked her panties to reveal … oh, what’s a polite and poetic way of putting it?
To reveal her blossoming flower.
Yeah, to reveal her blossoming flower – glistening with early morning dew.
To reveal her blossoming flower – glistening with early morning dew, so reminiscent of a lubricated vagina.
Then he did things that made his tongue hurt a bit, but seemed to please her. Sort of.
Other stuff happened, but I’m sure you don’t want to hear the grubby details, so we’ll skip to the bit afterwards where they were cuddling romantically.
They never saw each other again.