Dear Author,
I’m a healthy all American-Italian Jersey girl, who isn’t exactly a virgin. Although, my life sort-of took a left turn when my boyfriend declared, rather dramatically, that he was gay, or going gay, or wanted to be gay, or he has a man crush gone wild. However way he put it, he dumped me for a man. Still not sure which is worse, the dumped for a blazing blonde swim suit model, or blazing blonde man. Admittedly, I’ve experienced both, from two separate relationships. Both, really bangs up the ego. Which by this time, my ego looks like it’s been hit by golf ball size hail, because here I am months later still talking about it! Which brings me to sex in books.
So there's the left turn, and my sudden arrival in singlehood, absent of any sex life. The ex’s sudden departure into waving a rainbow flag, does not have me running for the convent, something my Great-Aunt Giovanna said I was destine for as a child, (her name means ‘God is gracious’ in Italian) it didn’t rub off on her. No grace in her old mean soul.
Oh, but I digress, so here I am still a healthy twenty something, that is alive and well, who reads a lot of books with a lot of sex. I’ve read some books that have soooooooooooo much sex, that they could make a porn star blush. For the love of Pete! It’s everywhere, with everyone, looking for more someone’s, and it continues on the desk, in the kitchen, on the counter tops, (yuck!) in the shower, (okay that’s kind a cool or hot) the tub, the couch, the stairs, and in the car, if they are short enough to have great sex there, or maybe the door is open, and they’ve got body parts hanging out. Its sex, and hot sex, and description of body parts, (now that I could really live without), and sex again. I’m out of breath, and it’s not making me horny. The left turn sort of killed my libido, a little. Okay, maybe just a pinch, alright a handful. Not anymore than that, just that, really, just that much. Per l'amore di Dio farà qualcuno mi risparmia da tutto questo o ancora ha meglio il sesso con me.
For my reviews I’ve read a few sexy books that keep me company. It’s nice to read about how people fall in love, and lust, have loving passionate sex, and have the HEA. Those books really do give me hope for love, when the dented ego is raging in the back of my mind. But they don’t make me want to go out and grab Firemen Frank by the hose, (wow, what a image) haul him off to bed. Let me rephrase that, or can I, not sure. Firemen Frank is the hunk of the month-I’m way digressing over here! I need to get off the subject of Firemen Frank and get back to sex in books. Now that’s a contrast of terms!
Okay, back to the subject matter. My question. If you remove the sex, is there still a story? One can only hope. I’ve read books, that honestly, if the sex was gone, probably ¾ of words would be gone. The book would only be few measly pages, with the body part descriptions. Which I could live without, I already said that. So to all you authors out there, sex is good. I believe in sex, hot sex, Firemen Frank, and few others that are attractive, but keep the story. If I remove the sex, let me believe it’s still a story about two people in love, or falling in love, or something just as nice.
Vederla sul retro!
I agree, the sex needs to further the plot/be a part of the plot. I've read some erotica titles that made me stop reading most erotica because the plot is too thin. I have sex, with my husband. It's not always super hot, but there is more than enough hot sex in my own life that I don't NEED it on the page. In fact, I try to write my sex scenes with a little awkwardness to them. Nothing goes as scripted. Or come in at the post-coital bliss, or end the chapter as it's clear the characters are retiring for the night. Hey, they deserve some privacy, right? :)
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