Spectacular vintage beauty!
From an erotica author’s perspective, Amazon is both an amazing opportunity (to self-publish and potentially reach a wide audience) and a royal pain in the ass. Because it’s big and powerful and it can, Amazon’s morality police are constantly on the prowl, enforcing vague and ever-shifting policies on the flavors of erotica that customers are allowed to see on its website.
For example, no sex with animals. And no incest. No allusions to them, either. Put “daddy” in an erotica title and see what happens (it’s ugly). Write about what Amazon considers to be illicit sex and not only will it remove the book, it can (and often does) ban accounts, meaning the author cannot publish with Amazon again. Out of business.
What’s wrong with incest or bestiality erotica? Neither kink interests me, so I shouldn’t care. But step back a moment. If an author writes an erotica story about, say, a brother and a sister engaging in sex, it’s just a story, right? It’s not an endorsement of real incest (which, I suspect, is almost always extreme sexual abuse). It’s not suggesting that you have sex with a sibling.
Human beings are complicated. We have fantasies that are difficult to express — thoughts and desires we don’t bring up around the dinner table or with colleagues at work. We think about things that we would never (or could never) do in real life.
That’s why incest erotica (just to pick on one kink) is called fiction. It’s a fantasy. It’s a way some people like to get off, both writers and readers.
And you’re an adult. Why have Amazon (and most other book distributors) stand in your way? Filtering your choices? Censoring what’s available to you? Why should a corporation in thrall of who-knows-what (fundamentalists? the chamber of commerce? Catholic priests?) determine what you see when you shop for erotica?
Along comes a new ebook distributor, Carnaltopia. It offers two things: First, its authors and stories are vetted for quality. If you shop for erotica online, you know there’s an incredible amount of dreadful stuff out there. I’m talking bad at the most basic level — bad grammar and spelling, lousy sentence structure and just plain unprofessional writing that shows writers’ contempt for their audiences. Carnaltopia, in a refreshing (and long overdue) change of pace, only lists high quality erotica (and, yes, I made the cut).
Secondly, and to my first point, Carnaltopia is not restrictive in its (legal) subject matter. You’ll find topics that you won’t find at most other online retailers (and which, of course, you’re under no obligation to buy). It’s a start-up, and the site’s catalog of erotica will continue to grow.
Now you can shop for ebooks at an erotica distributor that treats you like an adult. A final point: The prices are the same as that other place.
On a nice day in a New York City park, the the ladies from the The Outdoor Co-ed Topless Pulp Fiction Appreciation Society gathered to read their books. Topless, of course. Perfectly legal in NYC, by the way.
“At first, no one seemed to take notice of us — so much so that our [New York Times] reporter friend commented on it, amazed that the presence of half a dozen women relaxing topless in a public space attracted not a single stare or rude comment. But like most things that seem too good to be true, it was: after perhaps half an hour, a police car cruised slowly to a stop alongside us and the officers inside sheepishly indicated they’d received several calls to 911 complaining of our presence. Because, you know. Breasts. Clearly they require armed men in uniform to subdue.”
Arrests? Police brutality?
Hardly. Click on the photo to find out what happened.
From the good ladies at The Outdoor Co-ed Topless Pulp Fiction Appreciation Society, who regularly exercise their right to bare their breasts in New York City: This latest edition, in which they doffed their tops in Central Park, “below the bust of Thomas Moore, the Irish poet who wrote ‘The Last Rose of Summer,’ as fine a tribute to the season’s end as ever there was.”
No riots broke out, no children were harmed, the ladies reported.
“We weren’t a spectacle, we weren’t offensive. In as public a space as New York has, we were topless and decorum wasn’t shattered, nor traffic stopped, nor tourists scandalized, nor children scarred. Are you paying attention, Mayor de Blasio? Governor Cuomo?”
I think not. Well, maybe if you’re always late for work and can’t hold down a job because you can’t leave the house in the morning because you’ve got to rub one off. And another. And another.
For one lady, the answer is yes. She got hooked on her Hitachi Magic Wand. Who wouldn’t? It’s the real class act of vibrators.
But addicted? Really?
The recurring argument is that some women prefer their vibrator(s) to people. And the problem is…?
As one expert said, “Use of a vibrator is momentarily satisfying. But it doesn’t answer the need for a partner to hold you, converse with you, commiserate with you, and love you.”
Sure. Right. And it doesn’t rule it out, either. And considering that half of the human race has a lousy track record with satisfying the other half…spending eighty bucks for a quality vibrator makes a lot of sense.
Bussel quotes a woman saying that masturbation is “under attack.” Sexual intercourse is better. Using a vibrator to induce an orgasm before falling asleep is selfish. Fingers are better.
People, get real. First off, who has only one vibrator? I’ve got a drawer full (and lots of batteries, too). And, yeah, the Hitachi. I mix it up. I use my fingers. A lot. I go back and forth. I jill off in the tub with a hand shower (gawd!). Ever gotten off riding your washing machine during the spin cycle? Use your imagination!
Masturbation is selfish? Really? Then masturbate with a friend. Think of how much better the world would be if people got together just to masturbate. Movies. Outside. Barbecues. Watching sports on TV. Why the hell not?
Loosen up. Take off your clothes. Have fun. Get off. Enough with the guilt.
The first comment after the article by Dangerous Lilly, though, nailed it.
This is something I feel very strongly about. For YEARS I wasn’t orgasmic or, if I was, it was such a mild orgasm that I didn’t recognize it. I didn’t learn what a clitoral orgasm felt like until I bought my first vibrator in my late 20’s. I started out thinking I needed the Hitachi but over time have refined it to “pinpoint and rumbly” vibrator. The kicker? I’m now able to orgasm much more easily through fingers alone (or even a more mild vibrator) than before. It seems to have rebooted nerve endings for me. So to be told that I’m broken for needing a vibrator 95% of the time is hurtful and just plain wrong. I think one can get “addicted” to the endorphin rush and ease of an easy orgasm, but not the vibrator itself.
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