Open letter to the guys

(Disclaimer: If there are errors in this post or something looks crazy, I apologize. I don't know what's going on, but I can't seem to keep blogger up long enough to accomplish anything. So my apologies.)

This week or last, I forget which, another author with whom I'm friends on the BOF posted something for the guys. It was his take on what they should do when she's in "the mood." No, he didn't mean the good kind of mood - he was talking about the PMS, smoking and churning, vagina-with-teeth (as he called it) mood. He outlined all of the dainty, pretty, loving things a guy can do for his lady when that time of the hormones comes around.

My comment was that if the guys waited until she was courting the hounds of hell with her dagger-like stares, it was too late. They should be doing those dainty, pretty, loving things all the time.

But there's another factor to consider. In a previous post, I talked about why women don't want to have sex. I felt it necessary to revisit that with an open letter to the guys. Have your favorite guy read this, even if it's your teenage son. Because some day, my dear, he'll have a significant other, and relationships between mothers-in-law and daughters-in-law are difficult enough without yours thinking you've raised a Neanderthal (no slights to Neanderthals intended, but it is what it is). So here goes.

Dear sweetheart,

There are some things I really think I need to talk to you about, but since you can't tear yourself away from the monster truck pull, I thought I'd just write them down and share them. You're always wondering why pretty much anytime you say "go" in the bedroom I say "no," so I want to share some of my concerns with you.

First, those feet. I will gladly buy you a foot file, callous remover, set of giant-sized toenail clippers, but please, do something with those things. I really expect you to perch on the edge of the dresser, drum your fingers together, and mutter something about "my precious" every time I see them. Your toenails are clacking on the floor when you walk, and it's looking like I need some Kevlar legging to wear to bed to keep my legs from being slashed to a bloody mess. So, I beg you, since I'd like to keep my lunch down, bend down and take a look-see at what you might be able to work out down there.

And speaking of "down there," your hoo-hah is starting to look like a button on a fur coat. We have scissors, clippers, razors, all of that stuff. Could you maybe see if you could tame the wild west down south, please? You keep asking me what it would take to get me to wrap my lips around that bad boy, but it would be like sucking on a shetland sweater. You wouldn't want to do that, so why would I?

Since we're talking about taking a look-see, if you can't see the forest for the pork-rind or butter-flavored-popcorn-fueled trees or reach your feet to take care of the claws there, consider cutting back on the hot wings, ice cream, and nachos, and taking a little trip to the gym four or five nights a week. It's really hard to get excited about the prospect of having sex with Jabba the Hutt. And before you say something that's going to ensure your celibacy for all eternity, let me remind you that my body has born you beautiful children and it'll NEVER be what it was before. But I do try to take care of myself, for my own health and your visual pleasure, and it would be nice if you'd do the same.

Also, know that fragrance is important to women. We wear perfume. We buy body wash because we like the way it smells. We light scented candles all over the house. Here are some fragrances we DO NOT like:

Dirty socks;

Stinky gym clothes;

Mud;

Gasoline, oil, and/or diesel fuel;

Smoke (and the garbage-burning kind is the absolute worst);

Cheap aftershave (especially some of those body sprays the kids use - yuck);

Last but not least, body odors - lack of deodorant, lack of soap, lack of engagement of the exhaust fan in the bathroom, and then there are the airborne ones you gift me with after you've had two bowls of chili with beans and three beers. Because, baby, no one's lovemaking experience has EVER been enhanced by a fart. Not one single time. And yes, I have done that accidentally a time or two, but NEVER on purpose, and I've CERTAINLY never bragged about it, neither then nor later.

If you'd like to really alienate me, be sure to tell me how much I remind you of your mother. That'll go a long way to making me feel loved and special. It's bad enough that I have to treat you like a child because you act like one, but knowing that you think of me as a mom is just, well, gross, and also not very sexy. At all.

Make sure we never have an evening to ourselves. If it's not with the kids, it's with your buddies or your parents or at the parts store. Then come home and ask for a quickie before you have to roll over and catch some shut-eye for work the next day. Because nothing says love like coming in second, or third, or fourth, or even lower, with you. One date a week at somewhere other than Buffalo Wild Wings won't kill you.

Give me a vacuum cleaner, pots and pans, or tools for my birthday, Christmas, and our anniversary. That's absolutely what I wanted. Never mind the perfume I like, that sweater I've been looking at in the window downtown (of course, you didn't notice), the designer-knockoff bag I saw at the bargain store, or even a calendar with cute kittens and puppies on it. Nothing says love like a crescent wrench. Oh, and consistently forget those important dates anyway. It seems they mean nothing to you, so they mean nothing to me, right? That's sure to warm me up (but not necessarily in a good way).

Last but not least, make rude comments about me, and make them sound like jokes. There's nothing like hurt feelings to get a girl in the mood. Your, "Oh, honey, I was just joking!" works every time, like telling the jury to disregard the witness's last statement. Then when we're alone, give me a chewing out for embarrassing YOU in front of our family/friends/grocery clerk/stranger on an airplane because, after all, I didn't have to get all offended - it WAS just a joke.

In closing, let me just say that I love you - well, I want to love you anyway. You make it so easy for me, too. I'd love to take you to bed - then pull out a garrote and choke you in your sleep. But really, dear, I'm not asking for a lot. I'm just asking that you treat me as one civilized human being would treat another if they expected that person to love them, trust them, and give their body to them on a regular basis to do with as they please. If this is too much, please let me know and I'll make other arrangements.

And believe me, I can.

Love,

Your significant other

And P.S., ladies: If any of the things I mentioned above can be said about YOU, get busy. You've got no excuse. Bitching only works when you actually have something to bitch about.

Don't forget to go checkout my friend Ken's blog. Today's post is a fun one!

My Reads: My Fairy Godfathers by Krystabella

I have no idea how I found this book. I can't remember what I was looking for. I'm thinking maybe I was looking for a book by someone else and I ran across the author's name. Regardless, I found it, bought it, and started reading it. And I got the biggest surprise of my life. It turned out that My Fairy Godfathers was nothing like I thought it would be.

So, first off, let me say that Krystabella's covers aren't my favorites in the world. I find them kind of, I don't know, odd maybe? Or just strange. And diffuse. Just different. But I never judge a book by its cover, or possibly only occasionally, so I decided to read the thing just to see what it was.

As I read, I wasn't particularly impressed by the writing style. It's plenty good enough, and the choice of language was good, but it lacked a bit in the grammar and punctuation area, and it switched tenses too often. I decided I could live with that, though, because none of that detracted from the story itself.

That's where things get interesting. According to Krystabella, this is a true story written about Greg Wyler (not the man's real name), who came out to his wife and left her and his kids for the gay lifestyle. And when he left, he really, really left. It was profound. Oh, he still loved his wife, still stayed in touch, actually continued to live there, but when he decided he was gay, he never went back. Never.

And this is what I love about this book. The descriptions say it's a true story. I know Krystabella writes fiction also, but if this isn't real, it's damn close. It's written in such a style that I felt I was going along for the adventure with Greg, seeing what he was seeing, feeling what he was feeling, doing what he was doing. It was amazing, actually, to hear from a man who had lived the hetero lifestyle and knew it wasn't for him. Totally and utterly amazing. I enjoyed discovering how he fumbled around until he found three men, the Glorious Eagle Brothers, who could properly introduce him to the lifestyle. That's when he discovered he was absolutely, positively a bottom, someone who wanted to receive, not give. He dove into it like an Olympic diver on a high board into a pool and never looked back.

I was very interested in the fact that, once he came out, his wife pushed him to be authentic. She actually went out to a club and had a one night stand to encourage him to take the first step toward a new relationship. He tinkered with being an erotica writer of gay literature, was taught how to dress appropriately, and even at one point experienced puppy play. It was quite a trip for Greg, but he took it all in stride.

I enjoyed this book immensely, and that was a real surprise to me. I think the thing that I appreciated the most about it was the fact that it dealt primarily with a married father of three coming out and becoming the gay man he was always destined to be. In the not-so-distant past, I was a member of a religious sect that believed gay could be "cured." Their efforts to tell gays and lesbians that there was something inherently wrong with them and try to change them was repugnant to me - still is. This book pointed out what I already knew, that people have the right to be who they are, and they can still have productive lives, regardless their sexual orientation. Krystabella still worked to maintain the anonymity of Greg's wife and family, and that was admirable. The second book in this series is a collection of four short stories about gay men leaving their heterosexual lives and embracing their sexuality. I haven't read it yet, but one of these days when I have time (yeah, right), I'm going to.

If you've ever wondered about the gay lifestyle and how a man who sees himself as straight transitions into it, this book will help you in your understanding. If you don't have Kindle Unlimited, it's a whole $1.29, and it's worth every penny and more.

It's happened to everybody, so share with me and make me feel better about myself

You knew I was up to something, right? Well, here we go. You can answer this anonymously, but I want  you guys to tell me, tell us all:

What was your most embarrassing moment during sex?

I know you have one. If I get ten comments here, I'll share with you guys what mine was, and my face still burns when I think of it lo these many years later. Yep. That bad. So answer up and entertain us all. Who knows? Someone might take pity on you and reply with something even worse. And you'll feel so much better if you get it off your chest, kinda like nipple clamps or . . . I should probably shut up now.

Can't wait to see these!

My Reads: One to Protect by Tia Louise

(Before I launch into this post, yes, there wasn't one last week. I'm fully aware of that. I was on VACATION. And I had no wi-fi service, a thing about which I was most unhappy. Sorry. I'll try not to let that happen again.)

Sometimes you find that series that you want more of. I've found that one. It's Tia Louise's One to Hold series. And guess what?

Tomorrow, the fourth book in the series, One to Love, is being released! 

I'm pretty happy about that. Can you tell?

So, in case you haven't read them all (and I hope you have so, if not, GET BUSY!), today I'm featuring the third book, One to Protect.

The new book is one I'd been hoping for. It's the story of Kenny. Don't know who Kenny is? READ THE BOOKS. No, Kenny is not a guy. Also not a dog. And that's as far as I'm going with that. You can find out tomorrow. In the meantime, let me tell you about it's immediate predecessor, One to Protect.

In One to Hold, we met Derek, Melissa, Patrick, and Elaine. Oh, yeah, and don't forget Sloan, although I'd like to. In One to Keep, we got to hear more from Patrick and get more of the story of his burgeoning relationship with Elaine,, plus we were introduced to Kenny. Then comes One to Protect. We finally, finally, get to hear more from Derek. I'd been waiting for this. Why?

Because I love Derek. If you've read my books, you know who Vic Cabrizzi is, and Derek Alexander is Tia's Vic. And we all know EVERYBODY loves Vic. Derek is big, beautiful, loving, and deadly. He knows how to protect the woman he loves, and that's a tall order, because Melissa's ex, Sloan, doesn't give up easily. Sloan is, after all, the way they met. The book opens as they get more information on exactly what kind of person Sloan is, and he's the worst kind.

I also loved that Star got more of a role in this book. I'm hoping we'll see more of her in subsequent books, but I love the growth we see in her in this particular work. It's refreshing to watch an author take a character who seems useless and turn them into someone you can really sink your teeth into.

There's only one problem: I see trouble down the way for Derek, Patrick, and Star, which automatically translates into trouble for Melissa and Elaine. Fortunately, the biggest problem is gone - permanently. But this book left me a little worried, and I'm hoping books past this one let me off the hook.

I loved everything about this book, but, like I said before, I especially loved Derek. I want to hear more from him in the future, and I'm pretty sure that's going to happen. But I know who the new book is about, and that means I'll have to wait for more Derek and Melissa.

So if you haven't started this series, what are you waiting for? Am I buying the new one tomorrow?

What do you think?

Why women don't want to have sex

I got into an interesting conversation with someone about a little over a week ago. We were talking about men and women and sex and our conversation was quite pointed in some regards. It set me to thinking about a great many things, but there was one thing I kept coming back to.

Why don’t women want to have sex?

Men ask that question all the time. There are even jokes about it: What’s the best birth control you can get? Wedding cake.

Asshats.

But seriously, men do ask this question all the time, or some variation of it. Why doesn’t my wife want to have sex? Why isn’t my wife interested in sex? How do I get my wife to want sex? Why doesn’t my wife want to have sex anymore?

I have some really bad news for you, fellas. Really bad news. Your wife really does want to have sex.

She just doesn’t want to have it with you.

Okay, studly, now pick your jaw up off the floor and listen up. I’m going to tell you the truth, and you won’t like it, but you should probably pay attention. And I know what I’m talking about. So here goes.

First of all, here’s a truth: For men, in the arousal process, there comes a point of no return. It’s that place where, no matter what happens, he’s going to finish. It’s inevitable. There will be release for him, short of him getting run over by a train. Yeah, that’ll probably ruin his happy ending. But otherwise, he’s going to get it.

Women, on the other hand, don’t have this safety net. One wrong move, one stupid gesture, one nasty comment, and it’s over for her and the whole process has to start again. Most of the time, she’ll just tell you to not bother and roll over and go to sleep. Why? Because she knows the second time will be as frustrating and uneventful as the first. Shame, too.

Second, here’s another truth: What works for you will not work for her. Let me say this again so that you get it.

WHAT WORKS FOR YOU WILL NOT WORK FOR HER.

What do I mean? I know how you stroke yourselves. I know how you like for us to stroke you. And that kind of stroking will not work on us. Our bodies don’t respond to anything that frantic and harsh. Sometimes they will, but not usually. It’s a rarity. Not only that, but if we’re stroking you and we quit, you get all upset. But for most women (not all, but most), pausing momentarily and giving pleasure somewhere else only makes her more sensitive when you return to the previous activity. Not kidding. It really does work. And unless a woman is adequately aroused, she’s not going to have an orgasm from vaginal sex. Isn’t going to happen.

Third, it’s a damn shame I should have to tell you this, but I must: Just because you enjoyed it doesn’t mean she did. So you got your grand finale, and because it felt good to you, you’re pretty sure it felt good to her too. Not necessarily. Trust me, being your own personal cum dump doesn’t do a damn thing for her. Nothing. Zip. Zilch. Nada. It’s just become all about you and not at all about her.

Fourth, here’s one that you not might know: By nature, women’s bodies work in an orderly fashion. Here’s what I mean: If you give a woman an orgasm through manual stimulation, her body is automatically going to want vaginal sex, possibly even beg for it. It’s inevitable. Why, you ask? Because it was nature’s way of making sure that pregnancy took place. It’s all about the chemicals released during sex (don’t make me go into all that detail, please – it’ll suck all the fun out of this post) and the way they change the body as they are synthesized. They’re mostly things like dopamine and serotonin and stuff like that, neurotransmitters, and they’re all-important in the sexual satisfaction process. I know, it’s complicated. It’s chemistry. Isn’t that what it’s supposed to be about anyway?

That was a joke. Chill out. This is not a college chemistry course, and no, there is no opportunity for extra credit.

Fifth, and remember I said this: Grow your ass up. No woman wants to fuck a guy who acts like a twelve year old. Don’t know what I mean? Leave a mess in the kitchen. Drop your dirty clothes in the floor. Drive her car and leave it on empty. Stop at the store and get only the things you want when you know she has a list a mile long. Sit around and watch TV while she works her ass off. Complain about how you don't want to go down on her because you just don't care about it and it doesn't do anything for you.

And whine like a little bitch about how you don’t get enough sex. Oh, yeah, that works every time, right?

Sixth and finally: Did it ever occur to you to ask her what she wants? You know, you might just try that. You might be surprised at what she says. Of course, there is one difficulty here. It’s probably been so long since you’ve asked her or cared what she said if you did ask that, bless her heart, she has no idea what she needs or wants. She probably used to know, but by now she’s completely forgotten. She doesn’t remember what feels good, or what got her aroused, or what she needs to feel “in the mood.” And that brings me to something else entirely.

I see the windup for the pitch. No rotten tomatoes, please, but ladies, I’m going to drag you into the fray. And here’s what I want to say to you.

Talk to him. Tell him what you want and need. Use your mouth for more than bitching. Be specific. Stop him if it doesn’t feel good. Tell him, “A little to the left, honey.” If he’s trying but obviously doesn’t understand, try to explain. You may even have to demonstrate, so get over any shyness. You’re naked, after all. How much harder can it be to talk to him? If he just doesn’t get it but he’s trying, tell him maybe you can practice sometime in the daylight. Buy some books. Go to the adult store together and look at some things you might want to try. In short, communicate. If you don’t, it’s no one’s fault but your own.

But if you do and he just doesn’t seem to care and just goes on his merry way, as I see it, you’ve got two options. You can just grin and bear it.

Or you can go find yourself a man who really does care. Because in case you haven’t figured it out by now, life’s too short to put up with pitiful sex.

Why I write "porn"

Why do I do what I do?

Well, why not?

I’m looking for a really good reason to feel bad about my chosen profession, and I’m just not coming up with anything. You see, it goes like this:

This week, I ran into someone I hadn’t seen in a while. She proceeded to ask me if I was still doing any textile work, to which I replied in the negative. She asked me what I was doing. I said, “Writing.” She asked me what I was writing. I said, “Books.” She asked me what kinds of books. I said, “Erotic romance and erotica.” She asked if I was actually selling them. I said, “Yes.” Then she said something that nearly knocked me off my feet.

“I’d rather stay poor than delve into something like that.”

Spoken like a woman who married a gay man to bring him to the United States so he could get his citizenship, and then acted surprised when his lover came and picked him up and took him away and he asked for a divorce. Because she’s that woman.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not casting judgment. I’m just saying – how can she judge me?

So I guess I’m wondering what’s wrong with what I do. I make people happy, obviously. They read and like my books. They come back for more. They promote them amongst their friends, family, and Facebook community.

And they do something else too. They talk to me. You know how women talk to their hairdressers and men talk to bartenders? Well, people talk to me, mostly women, but some men. They ask me questions about sex. Funny thing is, I’m surprised at how often I actually know the answers. One person even said, "I guess you get tired of people picking your brain about this stuff." On the contrary. If I can answer their questions, I will. I'm no expert, but I try, and if I don't know the answer, I'll say so. On top of that, I’m honest with them and transparent. I have a policy of transparency: Ask me anything you want and I’ll answer it. If it’s too personal, I’ll tell you, but I’ll probably still answer it.

Note: This does not mean you can ask me if I have big boobs or like big cocks. It does not mean you can ask me if I do my own research and would I like to have you as a research partner. Fuck off. You know exactly who you are.

As I was saying, I’ll answer most any questions. I really don’t mind. And I’ve gotten into some really interesting conversations with people in PMs. Had one last night that, quite frankly, is going to be next week’s blog topic, so thanks, Ken! You’re an inspiration. Literally.

But I do have these kinds of conversations, and they’re wonderful. There are women, especially young women, who’ve told me that they were repressed or afraid or unsure until they read my books and got to know the characters. I think that’s because in Laying a Foundation, we get acquainted with a guy, a good-looking, successful, self-made guy, who realizes that even though he’s well over fifty, he spent so many years with a mentally ill lunatic of a wife, then so many years afraid of a relationship because of same mentally ill lunatic ex-wife, that he has nothing to offer a potential partner sexually because he has so little experience. He goes out in search of that experience, and what he’s taught enables him to find the woman with whom he wants to spend the rest of his life. The reader gets to go along as the two of them finally explore their sexual possibilities together and reach a level of not only sexual satisfaction but intimacy that neither of them had enjoyed before. It’s mind-blowing sex within the context of a loving, healthy relationship between two adults who finally find the person they’re meant to spend the rest of their lives with.

And for that I’m looked down upon? Does that seem right? Here’s another scenario.

I was in this group and this young woman joined us. She introduced herself and asked what everyone wrote. I was the first to welcome her and I told her that I write erotic romance and erotica. She then said that she didn’t write that weird stuff.

Okay, that kinda frosted me, but I kept my mouth shut – for a little while. After a couple of other people responded the same way and she kept making disparaging remarks, I directed a comment to her in which I told her that there were several of us who wrote in the erotic realm in the group, that we made money at it, and we had no intention of quitting anytime soon. She then said she didn’t mean any offense – she’d actually written some of that smut before, but she’d never publish any of it.

By the time I made it to my street team page, I was fuming. And when I told them what had happened, one lovely young lady reminded me that there’s nothing wrong with what I write and I should be proud. I should be proud to be a smut writer.

And now you know where the motto on my banner came from. I should also note here that the girl went by the last name of Sparklepants. Yeah, exactly. How ‘bout them apples? And she called my writing weird and smutty? As I recall, she writes paranormal. At least I do write about things that could actually happen (no offense to my paranormal publishing friends – I like paranormal just fine, but we all there aren’t really vampires, right?).

My point is this: I don’t think it’s okay for some sexually-repressed, straight-laced, stick-up-their-butts people to judge me for what I write. I’m no longer invited to some relatives’ homes, and I think it’s because they think I carry a dildo in my purse and I’m going to start talking about squirting in front of their small children. They seem to not be able to see that I’m the same person they knew before, just new and improved (whether they think so or not). I’m having fun, trying to make some money with this gig, and way more sexually liberated than they are. Jealous asses. I can’t help it that I’m having a good time and they’re not. Maybe they should let their chastity belts out a notch and get comfortable. Hell, they’re married – it’s my personal opinion that they should stop wearing the damn things altogether.

I’m going to write this shit. I’m going to write it forever, and I’m going to write it as raunchy and bawdy and sexy and hot as I want. And if they don’t like it, they don’t have to read it. They can sit around and be frigid until the cows come home. Funny part?

I bet their husbands would like it if they’d buy every one of my books. And I’m going to talk about that next week. So you might as well get your fire extinguishers ready.

My Reads: Catching Kate by Dee Kelly

I’d been waiting to read this, wondering how it was going to go. The first book stopped in an odd place a la One to Keep by Tia Louise (you remember that one from a few weeks ago, right?). This book is a novella that takes us back to the origins of the whole story. It’s called Catching Kate: The Acceptance Series by Dee Kelly.

I won’t say where we dropped off the map in the first book, because that would spoil some of the fun. Let’s just say a couple of people are in a sticky wicket. But in Catching Kate, we discover who Kate, Jess, and Michael really are because we learn everything about their background, and we do it through Michael’s voice. And that, to me, was the interesting part.

Because Michael’s a self-serving pig in some ways. He becomes quite the man-whore, but there’s a reason: He’s still hurting from the way everything went down when things came apart for him and Kate. Even so, his behavior was deplorable. Bless his heart, if things could be made worse, he’d definitely find a way to do it. It’s as though he has a relationship death wish, and he carries out the deaths with precision and total thoughtlessness, god help him. It’s hard to have sympathy for him.

But I do – I don’t want to, but I do. I can’t help but. He’s such a broken man-child that I can’t help it. But what makes me angry with Michael is his unwillingness to go back and make things right. Yes, he wants to . . . eventually. I don’t know what he thinks will happen in the meantime. She’ll just sit around waiting for him? He says he’ll honor a relationship if she’s in one, but I really think he had no intention of doing that. He just assumed that if and when he came back, she’d be waiting for him.

And that’s not the case. But things are VERY different from what he’d imagined. No spoilers here – you’ll have to read it – but I found myself feeling sorry for him and being infuriated at him at the same time. You know that old saying, if you snooze, you lose? Yep. Pretty well sums it up here.

I think the thing I liked about this book was Dee’s ability to capture the emotions of a group of small children and teenagers, and especially through the eyes of a boy/man. I was impressed with that aspect of the writing. Now I’m looking forward to the second book in the series, Releasing Kate. I want to see what happens with Vanessa!