Rewriting The Paper Orgasm

Literotica? Really? Aren’t you supposed to be writing thrillers Michael?

Yes and yes. I write tease. Tease is transient. Sex, life, death — all can be written with tease. Tease is entertaining. It’s titillating. The trick is blending them the right way and making it work.

Murder narratives often contain sex. Kissing is part of sex. Hugs are in there too. Leg-twitching, shudder-shaking bedroom action raises the tension. I include all of them… with rising-tension murder too. They go together well.

Lori Beeton (a huge Dean Koontz fan) said my literotica was unusually feminine. She says I take my time and don’t rush the sex.

I guess she’s right. I favour growing the tension between lovers. I let it build and swirl as though I’m writing an erotic-specific piece.

Eyes that shift, breathing that falters, secret desires which are revealed one touch at a time, makes for a better read.

Good sex is all about negotiating those ‘unspoken words’. I like the anticipation, the doubt, the uncertain outcome of what may take place after the first kiss happens. How we communicate desire and make contact is what it’s all about baby!

Savour that feeling!

Read about it in my books!

Michael

“Forman’s writing style is artful, with the protagonist Mitchell’s warped thought processes masterfully exposed. The author has a powerful and vivid command of language and his word pictures are stark and disturbingly real.”

– Linda J Bettenay, author of ‘Secrets Mothers Keep’ and ‘Wishes For Starlight’.

Sex And An Intimate Choke On A Stormy Evening

Sexual attraction is primeval. So are the emotions felt when a thunderstorm brews and unleashes hell. Both activate something deep within — at least it does for me. When the two of them meet, it’s more than I can stand. That’s why I love doing it in a storm. That’s my true kink. There’s something powerful and aggressive about nature’s wild side uniting with my wild thing. It stirs my inner-animal and makes the sex that much better.

Don’t misunderstand me, storms have an aggressive element, but I’m not an aggressive lover. That’s not me. I know aggression is used to lift some lovers to new heights of euphoria, but it’s still not my thing. Euphoria can be obtained without it.

Similarly, I don’t reach out and choke my lovers during sex. I’m more a meat and potatoes kind of lover. Biting, slapping, whipping and choking aren’t part of my sexual appetites… but making love under a tropical thunderstorm is. I like how it makes me feel. It activates something inside. HE comes from another place of my psyche. HE feels things in ways I can’t. This is another layer of my sexuality hidden beyond the civilised one I usually present to most lovers.

That first crack of lightning is enough to activate it. First, it makes the hairs on the back of my neck prickle, and then the rest of it follows. The sensation penetrates deep beyond my upper sensibilities and finds that mysterious level of sexual subconsciousness I need to cross over. I’m like a wild beast with a veracious new energy when the storm rages around me!

But I’m not a choker! Definitely not! Remember that when I tell you the next part of my story. It’s important to keep it in mind. I don’t choke. Here I go. Now take a deep breath, Mitchell. Make sure you get this right.

Last night, I held Nina down. That part is in no way extraordinary. Our sexual synergy took us outdoors. It was actually her idea. “Let’s try something different,” she said.

I was on top, so of course I held her body in place. It was missionary. Simple. Meat and potato love in the privacy of the backyard. Her knees were pointed towards the night sky, and I was facing her, enjoying the moment. No one was being hurt. It was perfect. Nice. Things were orderly.

And then that small storm cell presented itself and covered the stars. It came out of nowhere and it moved fast.

There was a flash of light, a crack, and then a deep rumble which shook the ground. None of it was forecast. I know this because I made damn sure of it before setting up our date. It wasn’t meant to happen. I save that for others.

As expected, my neck reacted to the sound in an instant. Just like before, I couldn’t stop the sensations once they started. This time, an intense pain struck me right between the eyes. After it subsided and the fog it created had lifted, I saw a stranger’s hands appear from nowhere and slide around Nina’s neck. I felt my hips move much faster — and my sex reached a new level of hardness. Those hands clamped down tight, her eyes popped open, she gurgled and then struggled to get herself free of their grip. These are the last few things I remember as the rain began to fall. The rest of it fades into a blur.

A gentle hum of rubber on a dry road coaxed me back to reality. The bristles on my neck had subsided. Nina and the storm cell was gone. At some point, I must’ve dressed, left her place and got myself behind the wheel of my car. I should’ve been confused by this strange shift in memory, but I wasn’t. I was profoundly satisfied instead. Never before have I experienced such a sense of inner peace as I did last night.

That’s not the end of it. There’s a little more.

As I slipped into bed, Samantha woke, rolled over and whispered, ‘How was it, dear? Did you get everything done that you needed to?’

“Yes. All of it.”

“Oh, that’s good. Well, g’night. See you in the morning.”

She gave me a peck on the cheek, rolled the other way and went back to sleep. Can you believe it?

Yep, that’s her way. She’s too nice a person to probe any further. My wife performs every obligatory nicety with trust and grace — even through disturbed drowsiness. Like I said, it’s her way.

Sam has many sides of that nice order of hers. She goes to bed early, so she can wake early. There’s much to be done and little time to waste. I won’t see her until dinner, and I won’t feel her again until we go to bed tomorrow night. That’s when she’ll kiss my cheek, roll away and sleep. It’s been like that for years. It’s why we don’t have children. She’s obsessed with every duty outside the bedroom — and sleeping whenever she’s inside it. This makes her happy. It makes me sad and frustrated.

Yes, you guessed it. Nina’s a more willing partner in that respect, but she’s a—

Nina? Oh, you want to know about what happened to her during the storm?

Oh, I don’t know. I’m too afraid to call her and find out if she’s still alive. Those two hands weren’t mine. I’m telling you, they didn’t belong to me. My orderly upper consciousness tells me that I couldn’t have hurt her. It’s not within me to choke — but I’m also aware that there’s another something hidden deep beneath layers of civility. I don’t know where that finishes.

It’s also why I’m afraid to watch today’s news.

-Mitchell

Neo-Noir Erotica. The New Black In Dark Storytelling. SEETHINGS.

Vanilla eroticism is known for its predictable plots. Romantics call them happy-ever-afters. Outcomes are expected. Clichéd plots are guaranteed. Someone’s manly chest meets someone’s perfect eyes and hair, and only names and situations change. Couples find their right type of Utopia by The End. Nice. Boring.

Neo-noir erotica is edgier than it’s softer counterparts. It’s arousing and unsettling. A narrative rarely takes a clichéd path or closes the way you’d expect an erotica-story to end. Love, justice, righteousness, good-over-bad, a love-that-conquers-all plot courses don’t easily fit into this genre, not in a conventional way anyway. If you go looking for a HEA, you may find one, but you’ll need to skew your head sideways to see it. Sex is used to tell a broader, deep-seated story from our darker sides. That side seeks a happy-ever-after too and it’s version isn’t so obvious, much less accepted.

When writing SEETHINGS, I purposely lured the reader into my book with a conventional approach to eroticism and then reshaped it. Okay, that part’s easy to digest. It allows this writer’s text to earn some keep. The characters then move together, feeding off their lusts and fears, devouring each other like lovers do — but then one oversteps the mark and a shadow climbs into bed with them. Something is wrong. Sex is in the story, but it’s not always its motive.

Every word in this chapter was crafted to get our lovers together, driven by what drives lust. It’s passionate and electric. It flows well, and I’m proud of how arousing it turned out to be. My toes curl a little thinking about it. The challenge was adding a third character and spoiling the natural order of things. That shadow I mentioned earlier in this post? Working it into the couple’s intimacy was a real challenge. The ending is kind of happy — for an unseen shadow. What about our lovers?

Read SEETHINGS now to unsettle all your thoughts on traditional erotica.

M

“Forman’s writing style is artful, with the protagonist Mitchell’s warped thought processes masterfully exposed. The author has a powerful and vivid command of language, and his word pictures are stark and disturbingly real.”

– Linda J Bettenay, author of ‘Secrets Mothers Keep’ and ‘Wishes For Starlight’.

Secret Affair Confession: ‘The Kisses Taste Way Better.’

I must confess, the touches are tinglier too. I wish I’d done this sooner. The amount of nights I spent awake, thinking about cheating, was endless. Last night, l finally crossed over and did it. And I’m not sorry, either. It’s naughty, and I don’t mind sharing my secret with you here. To hell with you if you’re a hater! Haters don’t know what I’ve been through. I had no choice but to go outside my marriage. I needed this so much!

How to kiss properly

Cheating keeps me sane. Without it, I’d be climbing walls. My spouse has no time for intimacy. It’s always work, work, work. I’m done with being second best and low-priority. Being taken for granted isn’t what I signed up for. The second chances I kept giving my partner ran out, so I made a choice. I’ve done more with my secret FWB in three months than I did in the last decade. We do everything we don’t experience at home. That’s why our meetings are so precious. There’s so much more freedom. The bizarre marital restrictions at home don’t matter.

Yes, we did marriage counselling. Better communication techniques were applied through couple’s therapy. We tried date nights too, romantic weekends away, but nothing worked. Married life became awkward. It wasn’t the way I expected to live. Monogamy was the dream. It’s just it didn’t work out like I planned.

If it weren’t for this new arrangement, Nina’s life would be as sexless as mine. We crave touch, but our spouses are absent. They live with us, but they’re not with us. It’s complicated to an outsider, but it’s not to us.

Secret Affair kisses

Before this affair, I had to embrace defeat or make some radical changes to my way of thinking. Something had to break, so I broke. Now I’m happy. So is my wife. I don’t look to Samantha for sex anymore, and she likes that. She stays busy, doing the things that make her happy. Sex isn’t one of them.

Nina’s marriage is almost the same as mine. If her husband isn’t too busy for sex, he’s too tired to play.

She and I love our spouses, we just didn’t like the icy lifestyles. We wanted fire! It’s delicious to burn. We know how to cook. Eating leaves smiles on our faces.

Are we too demanding for our spouses? Perhaps. If quick vanilla twice a year is demanding, then yes, we’re guilty. There are no strange kinks with us. Most of what we want is to feel human again. We like to kiss. Hugging is high on our list too. Sex completes us. Our problems are solved with this arrangement, and two marriages are improved for it.

Should I stay in this secret affair

Would I tolerate this behaviour if it were my wife doing it and not me?

Ten years ago, I’d have said no in an instant. Now, if taking a lover made her happy, then I’d have to think a second time before saying anything. Happiness for me required a behavioural change to take place deep inside me. I needed to accept a new kind of normal. Sure, if Sam wanted it, I’d consider accepting a new kind of normal. Change is good. Why can’t we embrace change? Change can help us all if we expanded our minds and put our trust in love, not sex.

Who am I kidding? She wouldn’t think like that. She doesn’t need sex. Books do it for her. Reading is her pleasure. We’ve a growing library on her side of the bed, and I’m not worth placing a bookmark into any of their pages for a moment of romance.

She’s asexual. That’s all there’s to say. Don’t over-think it. No sex is best sex.

I know what you’re wondering. Kids? No. We have no children. That’s why we have three healthy teenage-sized piles of books along her side of the bed instead. I allow my wife to read without distraction, and I get laid.

And then six women died in mysterious circumstances. It was all over the news. Maybe you know one of the victims.

Angelwanderer.

Five Random Victims
Summer Thunderstorms
Charm Bracelet
Author: M.Forman
Avail: Kindle, Kobo, Kindle Unlimited, Etc.

“Forman’s writing style is artful, with the protagonist Mitchell’s warped thought processes masterfully exposed. The author has a powerful and vivid command of language and his word pictures are stark and disturbingly real.”

– Linda J Bettenay, author of ‘Secrets Mothers Keep’ and ‘Wishes For Starlight’.
sexy kissing