If I could write the most erotic prose ever to be written, what would it look like? Would I write of passion, sex inside cars, on top roofs, tied to beds? Would I write of slow kisses, exploration of another, exploration of self? One Night stands, entangled lovers, lost love and sex without passion? Would I write of fucking, of making love, raunchy sex that leaves you sweating gasping for hair, for air. Release from bondage of life and its struggles. Would I write of skin, lips, tits and eyes searching and finding the inner space between each other thighs? Would I write of aged love, mature love, sex that is familiar when two people know each other? Sloppy sex, uncomfortable sex, fucking that should never happen? Protected sex, safe sex, sex with strangers because it means safety in numbers? Self-loving sex, pleasing self at the expense of others? Smelly sex, rank sex, fucking because it silences and drowns out the noise of the neighbors? Would I write of my sex, the sex I’ve had, the sex I never want to have again. The sex that leaves me speechless, lamenting the day I quit smoking. The sex I play in my highlight reel as I try to quiet the day and sleep. Would I write of the sex I wish I had? If I could write the most erotic prose what would they say, what would my characters do? Would I write of the sex with you, because of you? I would not, because I cannot write of sex when I’m fucking you.
Beautiful and Stunning!