One of my fellow bloggers has two blogs, one regular and a second blog of erotica based on her true-life experiences with her boyfriend.
(I won’t mention who unless she wants me to).
Since I am a competitive blogger and always out to increase my readership, I’ve decided to take a stab at erotica based on a real-life romantic encounter. So, send the kids away and prepare to get HOT. And Mom, you can read it too. I know you watched "Sex and the City." I also used to sneak looks at those sexy Judith Krantz novels you used to read. I still keep the ripped out page 123 of "Princess Daisy" in my sock drawer.
NIGHT OF PASSION — erotica by Neil Kramer
"Thanks for fixing my Tivo," said Sophia, as I stirred my homemade tomato sauce in the pot.
Sophia was wearing a sexy new outfit, and she looked terrific.
"It’s also nice of you to make dinner, Neilochka," she said.
"My pleasure, Sofotchka."
My wife (former wife?) smiled at me in that special way she did before we separated two years ago. I thought that maybe she did have "pleasure" on her mind, but not the one having anything to do with my pasta.
We slowly moved closer and closer. We kissed, our lips eager for each other. I could feel the energy flowing through my body. I ripped off her blouse, the buttons flying.
"Oops, I’m sorry."
"Don’t worry. I got it at sale at Loehmann’s. Only twelve dollars!"
"Great buy. And it looks great. Very flattering."
I saw that she was braless. Her magnificent breasts called out to me, " Touch us, hold us, kiss us!" Her nipples were as hard as the growing bulge in my pants.
"Let’s go to the bedroom."
"What about the pasta?"
"Shut it off. I honestly never liked your ‘homemade’ tomato sauce anyway."
I laughed. I always found her total honesty very sexy.
Before we knew it, we were moving into the bedroom. The bedroom looked different than when I lived here, because Sophia wanted to change the feng shui of the room to create better energy. And it certainly was working for me. Sophia reached for my belt and quickly undid my pants, releasing the pressure. My engorged tool stood at attention, ready and willing.
"Oh, Neilochka, you have the biggest c–k I’ve ever seen."
She knew I loved it when she talked dirty. But then again, she also had that habit of always telling the truth —
"Maybe not as big as the Vladimir’s c–k from Moscow, or Bibi’s c–k from Tel Aviv, or the c–k of that Jamaican steel drummer from New York, or the c–k of that lifeguard from Malibu…"
"OK, I get it. Let’s just… shhh."
I dove between her legs. Sophia sighed. I quickly let her "big" comment fade from my memory. Well not quite. It reminded me of something else.
"Oh, by the way, did you get "Big" from Netflix yet?"
"I did. I watched it and sent it back."
I quickly sat up, annoyed.
"Why did you do that? I asked you to get it for me."
"It ‘s been a week already. I sent it back so I could get ‘Monster-in-Law.’"
"I wanted to watch "Big" again. I have a screenplay idea that uses some of the elements."
"I’m sorry. Besides… you had that idea three years ago. It’s a awful movie idea."
Sophia mumbled something I couldn’t hear.
"No, tell me."
"Yes! Tell me, already!"
"OK… you used to have so many creative ideas. Then all you started to care about was ‘commercial.’ No wonder you never sell anything."
"It’s like your blog. It was great in the beginning. Now you just pander to the lowest common denominator of your readers with stupid sex jokes. It’s all fluff, no content."
"OK, so I’m not Instapundit, writing about the latest politics."
"And stop flirting with all the women online. It makes you look easy."
"I am easy."
"Look, your erection’s gone already. Why don’t you write about that on your blog?"
"My erection is not gone."
"Then it’s your fault. Yours… and… and… that stupid cholesterol medicine you’re making me take."
Sophia now mumbles something in Russian.
"You know, my readers are so much more nicer than you. If I lived in Florida — within one week, I bet I’d be sleeping in Brooke‘s bed."
"Right. Until she sees your bank account. And what you think your cholesterol medicine does to your erection."
"You know… you… you… you looked like you gained three pounds."
"I did not! You’re lying."
"Yeah, in your hips."
"You lie! Mark said I look great."
"Oh, I didn’t tell you. I went on a date with someone from court."
"You went on a date and didn’t tell me?"
"Why? Do you tell me everything?"
"Yes, because you force it out of me! I don’t even know why we’re still married."
"We’re not. We’re separated."
"I’m going home… and taking my erection with me."
"Wait! Neilochka! Don’t leave yet. Before you go, could you do a virus scan on my computer. I think there’s a problem."
Neil, did you mean to say “undid my parents” instead of “pants” or is that just an incredibily embarrassing freudian slip…or did you mean to give us a *funny* freudian slip? Just wondering…
I am writing a script bases loosely around some Italian mobsters that have a penchant for pasta…it suddenly turned steamy, hot and juicy, thanks man…I loved this
I’ve got Fabio on the phone. He said he’ll shoot your book cover. But only if you call him Mr. Fabio. And you can’t look him directly in the eyes. And, uhhh, he loves ice cream. That’s it.
I have to stop reading this at work.
That is awesome! I don’t know how it made it past the content filters at work?
So, if Sofochka’s always the one for the truth, you’ll be…
LOL! This Sophia of yours must be a saint or have a super sense of humor to let you write all that stuff…
Oh, and genuine steel drummers come from Trinidad, not Jamaica. Trust me.
I can’t decide if I’m crying tears of laughter or sadness after reading this.
Is it wrong that this makes me laugh?
What’s up with being separated for two years? How long can it go on? Single women want to know.
Yes, Jim, I am in fact a saint.
And the quotient of truth in this story is, well – take a wild guess. So, no need to be sad, Ashbloem.
It’s about time a guy started writing some erotica in the blogosphere. It seems so much more real…
So many comments and so little time.
okay, now I’m reading it again and it says “undid my pants” and not “parents” – now I’m starting to wonder if it ever said parents – am I the freudian freak? Please tell me you fixed a typo and it’s not me!
I fixed it. That was one weird mistake, writing “parents” rather than “pants.”
I love it! Is it To Be Continued…??
Ok, so where did Neilochka take his erection?
Judith Krantz was so naughty. I went through puberty with those books. Her and Jackie Collins – sooo naughty. Not quite as much as this post – but still!
Neil, uh… look, your mother called and she’s… well, she’s not very happy. I don’t know man. I just don’t know.
P.S. – There’s a law in Florida that if a Super Model Boyfriend catches a Californian in his Super Model Girlfriend’s bed, deadly force is authorized.
I think you’ve just written your screenplay.
Oh, and Neil, thanks for your words on my blog…
i don’t like erotica.
i seriously vote that you move to Florida.
yeah I’m with ya on the -two years- please explain this!
kristine, umm, I think you’re missing the point big time – it’s clearly not a report but a piece of literature, and a humorous one at that.
Neil, frigging brilliant!
You people talk and talk, but the collection jar [for funding Neil+Brooke mating experiment in Florida] is empty.
tomkat, did you really say “ummm” when you typed that?
i’m not an idiot. in fact, i bet i’m smarter than YOU! ha!
Why did y’all divorce?? Did I miss something??
I gotta read the backlogs, but I’m thinking you guys need each other.
I’m praying this bout of erotic spirit had nothing to do with you giving me a ride to the blogger gathering last night. And if seeing me sparked something, I just don’t want to know!
Thanks again, btw!
This is brilliant. It should be made into part of a film…(with a voice over? without?)
There is no experiment!
Dah, JJ: there is no experiment coz the jar is empty!
We have to lease the “Big” to get ANY results, remember? and they won’t do mitzvahs.
1. Heads up on the erotic art dude! Not work friendly… what if it just started posting dirty pictures on my blog without warning.
2. I can’t believe wrote about your willy when you know you mom reads this… ick factor high.
3. What the f is up with you and Sophie? Know Yiddish? Tokhes afn tish!
Dear Anonymous, I don’t feel any “ick.”
I grew up on reading Forever Amber by Kathleen Winsor. I’m sure your mom read it too.
My mom had a copy of Everything You Want to Know About Sex, but was Afraid to Ask hidden in her night stand. I’m guessing.
Seperated-spouses erotica is hot! Although trying to visualize any erotica between myself and my ex kinda makes me nauseated, so I won’t go there. lol
Amazing picture! Wow…..
where do you “write” at ….I realize you said LA…but where can I read you?
I used to be a newspaper reporter….now I just freelance and blog….
Sorry I missed this one until now. My bad.
Shall I assume I am this blogger with the seperate blogs, or is there another? I never mind a shameless plug (oooh, that sounds bad) so have at. Among other things, I am a link-whore. Ha.
You know, I have to tell you, this cracked me up. I was like, oooh yah, gettin’ hot, uh huh….oh…wait…no…uh oh…going downhill….crap…..*thud*. And then I started laughing, because how many times has something like this happened to me? Really. I just don’t WRITE about it. (grins hugely) Perhaps I should. I might be missing out on that whole flaunting-my-human-ness angle. I mean, I wrote about the b/f who fell asleep during sex, and that got lots of feedback. Hmmm…
You keep writing, Neil. There’s a smut talker in you, I know it. You can come guest blog if you want, if you think your readers won’t appreciate it…
I will! mwaaaa haaa haaaaa
Found you through TequilaCon ’06 attendee list. This post seriously cracks me up….I don’t care what the truth quotient is.
Jessica — Thank you, I’ve tried some erotica since, and I’m still bad at it.