This is a reload of the Guest Blog I did for Kharisma Rhayne's Red Lipstick Journals blog on Monday, March 5, 2012. I hope you enjoy!
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“If music be the food
of love, play on!”
Writing erotic tales is really a lot of fun, and, you would
think, relatively easy to do. But the
fact is, writing good erotica takes both a lot of effort and a lot of
inspiration. Effort is needed in the
development of good characters and plots – even short erotic tales need these
to raise them above the level of pornography that they are often accused of being. Inspiration is required to keep the
stories fresh and different, finding new scenes and characters, and avoiding
the sameness that spoils so many offerings of all genres. For me, much of this inspiration comes from a
lot of the music I have both grown up with, and that which I listen to today.
Rock and pop music today is littered with the profanity and
sexual content that is the hallmark of music today. Growing up in the 1980’s, I had to listen to
a lot of the music my parents played from the late 60’s and early ‘70’s, when
the sexual content was much more subtle and, consequently, much more
erotic. For instance, one of the
favourite groups of the early ‘70’s was “T. Rex”, lead by the bopping elf, Marc
Bolan. Much of T.Rex’s music is littered
with hot, sexual suggestions and statements –
“Ooh, lady, I love your chest,
oh, baby I’m crazy about your breasts, woman!”
(Raw Ramp)
“Oh, dreamy lady, won’t you come to my bed? Night is the right time to get acquainted
with my head, in my bed!” (Dreamy Lady)
“Oh girl I’m just a vampire for your love, and I’m gonna suck ya!”
(Jeepster)
And the list goes on – drop
me a line if you’d like to know more! ;-)
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Raw Ramp by T. Rex
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Maybe the raunch started with groups like The Rolling
Stones, with dear old Mick enjoying his “Brown Sugar – how come you taste so
good? Brown Sugar, just like a black
girl should!” But there was certainly a
big shift at that time from the sweet love and peace songs of the mid-to-late
60’s to an edgier content, and that
caught my imagination as I grew up, sowing the seeds of what would eventually
become a strong sense of the erotic.
This was tuned and refined through impressions gained from listening to
a lot of New Age music – Enya, Enigma, Mike Oldfield – which fed the visions in
my mind while providing me with stimulation of the soul that fed the
stimulation of the body that is the marriage that makes erotica more than
pornography. Music was the channel that
focussed and fed the emotion behind the scenes – a channel that, for the
reader, is sadly lost when reading the written word.
As a prime example of how music inspires me, I have included
below a passage from a fantasy novel I have been working on for some years,
called “The Pentateuch”. This is the
story of Powell, a young man with mysterious powers who believes himself to
have been orphaned many years prior to this event. For the last 8 years he has lived in a hidden
enclave, being educated by a prolific group of intelligentsia from a number of
races. During that time, he has grown up
and shared his life with Mika, a young woman of a sylvan forest race, with whom
he has fallen deeply in love, unaware that she feels the same way about him. Mika is the daughter of a sorcerer king and,
as such, has wealth and power far more than Powell knows. The scene below is where she finally makes it
truly plain to Powell how she feels about him, whatever the consequences!
This scene was always part of Powell and Mika’s tale, but it only became an erotic scene when I first heard a piece of New Age music called “Season of Growth”, by Marilyn Rife and Alice Gomez. This wonderful modern North American Native piece fit perfectly with the scene that then developed into that below, totally changing the style and emphasis of the piece, and my entire outlook on the book. The more I listened to the music, the more the erotic content of the piece developed, and, just like that, Ashen White became an author of erotica! I loaded this tune up onto YouTube, so you can read the excerpt and listen to the music at the same time. If the music ends before you finish reading, just hit Replay!
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Season of Growth by Marilyn Rife and Alice Gomez
An excerpt from Book 2 of “The Pentateuch” by Ashen White
The glow of the full Summer moon lit the pathway as Mika
slowly stepped down into the secluded privacy of her garden, the cool blades of
grass tenderly tickling her toes. At the
far end of the lawn, his back to her, broad and muscular, his shadow long and
distorted from the rays of moonlight, Powell stood staring up at the silver
globe, unaware of her approach. The dim
chirrup of crickets and the low calling of birds on the lake drifted away as
she stepped over to where he stood, her long dress swirling about her nakedness
as she moved, anticipation and desire growing inside her. Her chest tightened as she neared him, and
her sudden intake of breath caused him to turn around.
Abruptly, she felt almost naked in his gaze, but the look of
admiration and passion flaring in his eyes told her all she needed to
know. His lips opened, smiling and
aroused, and she watched him swallow hard as her perfume and body scents
drifted across the evening air to his face.
Then they were next to each other, her hair flowing in the gentle
breeze, his eyes devouring her nearness, her rising breasts, the pale flush of
her cheeks.
“Mika,” he sighed, awe-struck by the vision before him. “You look bea…” Her finger stayed his lips before he could
say any more.
“Tonight,” she said, “is for the silence of the forest and
the vision of the moon.” She took his
hand in hers and gently held it to her cheek, feeling the blood pulse in its
veins, feeling its warmth on her skin.
He ran his fingers along her cheek to stroke her neck, and her long,
flowing hair. Cupping the back of her
head in his palm, he gently drew her lips to his, while she playfully resisted,
and then succumbed to his gentle force.
His lips were soft and warm and firm, just as she had always hoped they
would be, and her body trembled as his tongue sampled hers. The sweetness of the mead he had been
drinking, warm on his breath, flavoured his mouth as, deeper and stronger their
mouths combined in passion. The heat
from her tingling lips spread warmth through her body, and she felt herself
molding into him.
Pulling back, she surprised him, questions filling his eyes
as she smiled playfully at him. Slowly
she lifted his hand and placed it on the cord at her neck, willing him to pull. Powell needed little urging and, as the cord
came away in his hand, the neck of the dress opened wide, and the flimsy cover
fell to the lawn. Mika shivered slightly
as the evening breeze washed over her naked body, rippling through the hair at
her loins and rubbing gently at her hardening nipples. She saw the look of wonder in Powell’s eyes,
that flamed into desire as he came forward to embrace her. Her body shook as their mouths met again, but
this time her hand busied themselves in loosening his tunic and pants, which he
flung away in impatience as his passions ruled his mind.
She looked over his nakedness for the first time, seeing the
muscles ripple on his chest and arms, the definition in his stomach, and,
dropping her eyes, the growing hardness of his manhood. Then they were entwined, his warmth covering
her, his arms enfolding her, his hardness pressing hotly against her, heating
her within, making her wet with need. Gently
he lowered her to the lawn, then lay beside her, kissing her deeply, as his
fingers ran the length of her body. She
moaned gently as his hand came to rest on her breast, rubbing her nipple
gently, sending fire radiating into her.
Instinctively she reached out to grasp his pliant hardness, as his mouth
covered her other breast, adding fury to the ministrations from his other
hand. Moments passed in a blaze of
radiance as he slowly worked his way down her body, kissing and nibbling and
teasing her sensitivity. Her back arched
as his fingers ran gently across the moist lips of her yoni then down to circle
the sensitive skin between the wetness of her sex and her rear orifice.
Suddenly, his weight beside her was gone, and she opened her
eyes in surprise! At that moment she
felt his hands gently part her thighs, opening her up to his gaze, her wetness
flowing free. She sighed as his face
came close to her wanting sex, his breath warm on her lips, and quivered as the
warm, moist strength of his tongue delved within, tasting her need. Her fingers twined into his hair, holding him
against her as he circled the hard nub of her clitoris and sucked her labia
into his mouth, again and again. A flame
grew within her she had never felt so strongly before, rushing through her body
and limbs with a voraciousness she never knew was possible, knotting her
muscles and tightening her breasts and throat.
In the distance, she could hear someone calling out, then realised it
was her, in the throes of orgasm, as Powell sucked her to oblivion.
(Copyright © 2012,
Ashen White)* * * * * *
And that’s just the start of a really special night for both
of them. Of course, there’s always
consequences to these tales, and the rest of the second volume of The
Pentateuch revolves mainly around those consequences. I hope you enjoyed reading and listening to
this excerpt as much as I did writing it.
My thanks to Kharisma for sharing her blog with me, and
allowing me to bring a little of my work and wonder to you.Ashen
