Thursday, 27 August 2009


I like fetish. But I don’t really get it. Perhaps that’s why it intrigues me. I find it alluring. The wild spectrum of idiosyncrasies that turn people on. I guess it’s subjective, personal to each individual. I’d like to know more, although with no one that I know, admitting to a fetish, it’s something that’s difficult to find out about. But I am curious.
So I search the Web, and find that there’s stuff going on that I’d never dreamed of. There’s some that I don’t want to think about, let alone talk about. Practices that are cruel, if not downright dangerous. But the ones that I feel okay with, well, it’s interesting to see how some fetishes have been taken up by writers of Erotica.

I’d never heard of Doll fetish, until I read about it on Sexual Fetish Freebase.

“Doll fetishism is a sexual fetish in which an individual is attracted to dolls and doll like objects such as figurines. The attraction may include the desire for actual sexual contact with a doll, a fantasy of a sexual encounter with an animate or inanimate doll, encounters between dolls themselves, or sexual pleasure gained from thoughts of being transformed or transforming another into a doll.”

I remembered P.S.Haven’s excellent short story; Charles Sykes Spirit of Ecstasy, and it fits very well into this category. It’s the story of a woman who has an overwhelming desire for the Rolls Royce emblem, the spirit of ecstasy. It has an almost spiritual significance for her. She gives herself up to it, literally, in an encounter that is stunningly sexy.

Jude Mason and Jenna Burns give us a Transformation fetish in, Feral Heat. Kai is a highly sexed human. But he’s a changeling and is also a highly sexed cougar.

“Transformation fetish is a context of sexual fetishism in which a person becomes sexually aroused by descriptions or depictions of transformations, usually the transformations of people into other beings or objects. The Transformation, or "TF" community does not seem to have a specific name for its members; often the generic "TF fan" is used, however this term is also applied to people who have a non-sexual interest in Transformation fiction. …”

Then there’s ‘golden showers,’ the liking for being pissed on.

“Urolagnia (also urophilia, undinism) is a sexual activity in which participants derive sexual pleasure from urine or urination. The term has origins in the Greek Language (from ouron, urine, and lagneia, lust). Those who enjoy urolagnia may enjoy urinating on another person or persons, or being urinated upon. Some participants may drink the urine; this practice is known as urophagia…”

An acquaintance did once admit to me to a liking for being pissed on. He couldn’t say why, other than it “is really nice.” Janine Ashbless gives me a better idea in ‘Renaissance,’ in her collection; Cruel Enchantment.

“…the bright pungent stream of his urine splashed on her tits, on her aching nipples, on her belly and splayed thighs…it felt unbelievably good. The male stink made her head swim…”

And I mustn’t forget the voyeurs and exhibitionists. Another Fetish taken up by writers of Erotica. In All Eyes On Her, M. Christian takes us through the journey of one woman exposing herself to the world. Cindy masturbates on the roof of a building.

“Cindy watched the city watching her. Looking at one silvery window in particular she lifted her right hand to her left breast and stroked the soft skin and pinched the hard nipple.”

Here, Christian cleverly blends two Fetishes into one story. We see the point of view of both voyeur and exhibitionist.

“In clinical psychology, voyeurism is the sexual interest in or practice of spying on people engaged in intimate behaviors, such as undressing, sexual activity, or other activity usually considered to be of a private nature. In popular imagination the term is used in a more general sense to refer to someone who habitually observes others without their knowledge, and there is no necessary implication of any sexual interest.”

“Exhibitionism, known variously as flashing, and Lady Godiva syndrome, is the psychological need and pattern of behavior involving the exposure of parts of the body to another person with a tendency toward an extravagant, usually at least partially sexually inspired behavior to attract the attention of another in an open display of bare private parts…”

And, of course there’s Foot Fetish. We’ve all heard of it, but strangely, I couldn’t find a definition for it. It does though seem closely linked to Boot Fetish and Shoe Fetish.

I couldn’t find a story so here’s a bit of one of my own.

“Feet. For Adam, it had always been feet, for as long as he could remember. One of his earliest memories was of sitting underneath the big, oak table in his mother’s dining room, surrounded by ladies’ feet. He was just a toddler and his mother had no-one to leave him with at her monthly book club meetings. So he was allowed to crawl around under the table as long as he didn’t make a noise. Adam never made a noise. He sat and listened to the women’s soft voices and laughter, as he sucked his thumb, lost in his own private heaven, gazing at, and inhaling the smell of women’s feet. Once he’d dared to touch a lady’s foot. He stroked the fine creamy skin curiously, marveling at the delicate bones beneath. The lady had peeped down at the little boy beneath the table, and smiled.”

There’s so many, many more. Far more than I can talk about here. Fetishes for Spandex, Latex, Leather, PVC, and Fur. There’s Pony girls and boys. Scatology and of course, good old Bondage. Enough to keep Erotica writers going for years to come.

Check out Sexual Fetish Freebase to find out more.

Sunday, 23 August 2009

Confessions of a Literary Streetwalker: Risks

billierosie asked - and as I can never say 'no' to such a sweet and wonderful person - and so here it is: my Confessions of a Literary Streetwalker piece on the risks, and how to avoid them, of being a smut writer.

"The shock of September 11 is subsiding. Each day adds distance. Distance diminishes fear. Cautiously our lives are returning to normal. But "normal" will never be the same again. We have seen the enemy and the enemy is among us .... the publishers, producers, peddlers and purveyors of pornography."

It didn't take me long to find that quote, just a few minutes of searching. It came from an LDS Web site, Meridian Magazine, but I could have picked fifty others. Maybe it's because of the election, or because of a few horror stories that have recently come my way, but I think it's time to have a chat about what it can mean to ... well, do what we do.

We write pornography. Say it with me: por-nog-ra-phy. Not 'erotica' -- a word too many writers use to distance themselves, or even elevate themselves, from the down and dirty stuff on most adult bookstore shelves -- but smut, filth ... and so forth.

I've mentioned before how it's dangerous to draw a line in the sand, putting fellow writers on the side of 'smut' and others in 'erotica.' The Supreme Court couldn't decide where to scrawl that mark -- what chance do we have?

What good are our petty semantics when too many people would love to see us out of business, thrown in jail, or much, much worse? They don't see a bit of difference between what I write and what you write. We can sit and argue all we like over who's innocent and who's guilty until our last meals arrive, but we'll still hang together.

I think it's time to face some serious facts about what we do. 'Swinging from a rope' hyperbole aside, we face some serious risks for putting pen to paper or file to disk. I know far too many people who have been fired, stalked, threatened, had their writing used against them in divorces and child custody cases, and much worse.

People hate us. Not everyone, certainly, but even in oases like San Francisco people who write about sex can suffer tremendous difficulties. Even the most -- supposedly -- tolerant companies have a hard time with an employee who writes smut. A liberal court will still look down on a defendant who's published stories in Naughty Nurses. The religious fanatic will most certainly throw the first, second, third stone -- or as many as it takes -- at a filth peddler.

This is what we have to accept. Sure, things are better than they have been before and, if we're lucky, they will slowly progress despite the fundamentalism of the current government, but we all have to open our eyes to the ugly truths that can accompany a decision to write pornography.

What can we do? Well, aside from joining the ACLU ( there isn't a lot to we can directly do to protect ourselves if the law, or Bible-wielding fanatics, break down our doors, but there are a few relatively simple techniques we can employ to be safe. Take these as you will, and keep in mind that I'm not an expert in the law, but most importantly, try to accept that what you are doing is dangerous.

Assess your risks. If you have kids, if you have a sensitive job, if you own a house, if you have touchy parents, if you live in a conservative city or state, you should be extra careful about your identity and what you are writing. Even if you think you have nothing to lose, you do -- your freedom. Many cities and states have very loose pornography laws, and all it would take is a cop, a sheriff, or a district attorney to decide you needed to be behind bars to put you there.

Hide. Yes, I think we should all be proud of what we do, what we create, but use some common sense about how easily you can be identified or found. If you have anything to lose, use a pseudonym, a post office box, never post your picture, and so forth. Women, especially, should be extra careful. I know far too many female writers who have been stalked or Internet-attacked because of what they do.

Keep your yap shut. Don't tell your bank, your boss, your accountant, your plumber, or anyone at all, what you do -- unless you know them very well. When someone asks, I say I'm a writer. If I know them better, I say I write all kinds of things -- including smut. If I know them very, very, very well then maybe I'll show them my newest book. People, it shouldn't have to be said, are very weird. Just because you like someone doesn't mean you should divulge that you just sold a story to Truckstop Transsexuals.

Remember that line we drew between 'pornography' and 'erotica'? Well, here's another. You might be straight, you might be bi, but in the eyes of those who despise pornography you are just as damned and perverted as a filthy sodomite. It makes me furious to meet a homophobic pornographer. Every strike against gay rights is another blow to your civil liberties and is a step closer to you being censored, out of a job, out of your house, or in jail. You can argue this all you want, but I've yet to see a hysterical homophobe who isn't anti-smut. For you to be anti-gay isn't just an idiotic prejudice, it's giving the forces of puritanical righteousness even more ammunition for their war -- on all of us.

I could go on, but I think I've given you enough to chew on. I believe that writing about sex is something that no one should be ashamed of, but I also think that we all need to recognize and accept that there are many out there who do not share those feelings. Write what you want, say what you believe, but do it with your eyes open. Understand the risks, accept the risks and be smart about what you do -- so you can keep working and growing as a writer for many years to come.

Wednesday, 19 August 2009

I’d been mulling over the idea of writing a castration story. Male castration. There’s plenty of information on the Web. I don’t have any medical knowledge but the surgical information was there and wouldn’t be too difficult to write -- but…
…I decided to walk away from it -- or run away. It was when I got to the castration fantasies. I realised I just couldn’t deal with it. They are, to me, vicious, violent. It would be the equivalent of writing a really nasty female rape story and having the victim enjoying it. All of the fantasies, at least the ones I read, are about beautiful women castrating men.
Some of the fantasies are about guys having their balls “popped.” I don’t need to explain. Just use your imagination. You’ll cringe -- just like I am now.
A reoccurring fantasy, is about a promiscuous man, captured by a group of women. They take him to a female surgeon, who just happens to be a veterinarian. She, of course, is an expert at this type of surgery and has agreed to do it, on the condition that she can keep him as her pet, her eunuch. The women agree; they don’t want him anyway, they just want to watch. The man is strapped down and the beautiful veterinarian, who also happens to have massive tits, starts her work. The surgery is watched by all of the women; they laugh and giggle and point at him. The handsome man is the object of their ridicule. The victim is struggling against his bonds and screaming, “no, no.” But in his mind is longing for the surgeon to complete her work; he wants to belong to her.
I don’t know what I’m saying about this, except that I can’t deal with it. I’m glad I found out so early in my “writing career,” that I’d got limits. That there are places I just don’t want to go.
I’m not judging anyone who has this fantasy -- it is just a fantasy, isn’t it? A story people tell themselves. And I’m certainly not judging anyone, who wants to be castrated as a lifestyle choice, or who needs the procedure because of sickness.
But to write it up as erotica, or porn. Well, as I said earlier. I’m walking away.

Sunday, 16 August 2009

The Name's The Thing

The always-fantastic billierosie asked me to post this little essay I wrote about the differences between erotica and porn ... and if there are any. Enjoy!

Erotica or pornography? To be honest, how I answer that question really depends on who asks it -- though I have often thought about the distinction. Personally, if it's a fellow writer asking if what I is erotica or pornography, in other words high literature or low smut, I have a tendency to answer with 'erotica' for obvious reasons. If it's someone who rings my doorbell late at night, or at some other obnoxious intrusion, I snarl that I'm a pornographer, and I have to really get back to writing nasty stories about equally nasty sex -- if just to get rid of them.

This playful ducking of the issue aside, some people really do take the idea of a different between the two very seriously. A common definition between the two is that pornography is 'just' sex, in other words the author appears to be doing nothing that just arouse the reader, while erotica is aiming for a higher purpose. The problem with that though is that one man's erotica is another's pornography: that the reaction to a story is completely subjective. Besides, who knows what the intent of any writer really is?

Another attempt at definition is that erotica is refined, while pornography is course, rough, ham-handed. The idea behind this is that there is some kind of vocabulary litmus test that can be made against a work to see if it passes or fails. This also falls flat because a lot of sexuality simply is course. An honest story, talking about someone's real sex life, can sometimes use language as salty as the crustiest sailor's.

A classic way of telling one from the other is the old favorite that pornography is "without any redeeming social importance." Again, this falls flat as who can say what impact anything artistic will have -- either today or hundreds if not thousands of years from now. I'm sure a lot of contemporaries of Beethoven, DaVinci, Shakespeare, Rodan, and so forth looked on their works and wrinkled their noses in disgust. Not that I think something from Hustler will seriously be hanging in the Louvre someday, but who knows what folks will someday find artistic.

What I think is even more alarming that censors and social commentators trying desperately to find some simple way of differentiating between smut and art, is that many writers are trying to separate the two as well. In other words, the same folks who are trying to keep it out of 'inappropiate' hands have intentionally or unintentionally, have joined forces with the people writing it.

Erotica has changed a lot in the last twenty or so years. Once the mainstay of the desperate writer, people are now actually either pursing erotica writing as a respected and fairly well-paying job or are using it as a stepping stone to bigger things. I wouldn't be writing this column, and having my stories, published in magazines like this without erotica. I even have books -- three collections, and have edited over a dozen anthologies -- because I write about sex. That's quite remarkable, especially considering the stigma sexual writing used to have.

But as with many things, success has a price. Some writers are desperately trying to draw a line in the sand, if only so they can feel just a bit better what they do by elevating themselves through lowering others. "You," they say, "write pornography, while what I do is erotica." Their reasons are understandable, for the first time sex writing is getting respect, some money, and has been opening some otherwise closed doors. In their eyes, it doesn't do then any good to be grouped together with course, "just sex," or works "without any redeeming social importance." The problem is their criteria are just as nebulous as those who want to be able to prosecute for one, while grudgingly permitting the other. The problem is they are both have the potential to be very dangerous.

As I said, there is no absolute definition between literary erotica and pornography. A classic case of this was the quote from Justice Potter Stewart: "I know it when I see it." In other words, it's all a matter of opinion. The problem is, while some writers who are part of this new form of sex writing are looking for a way of telling apples from oranges simply to preserve their new-found self-respect, there are others who are trying to tell the two apart to send the writers of what they consider to be 'pornography' to jail. What better way, they are beginning to say, to draw the line than to use the rules that writers themselves are using?

Allowed to continue unchecked, puritans and hysterics who want to protect the world from what they see as the 'evils' of sex writing will be using these attempts to discriminate between high and low, art and "just porn" to draft laws, ban books, and possibly even fine or imprison authors.

My name is Chris, I write under the name "M. Christian." I am a writer. I write many things: essays, columns, reviews, articles, novels, short stories, and a lot of pornography -- and, no matter who asks or why, I'm very happy doing all of it, including writing pornography. Sex writing is daring, risky, innovative and touches on something that most everyone on this world has experienced, something that makes us human.

I'm a pornographer, and proud of it.

Saturday, 15 August 2009

Peeping Johnny

Read Parts 1 and 2 of Jude Mason's fantastic erotic story, Peeping Johnny, at Frequently Felt! I have the feeling that Johnny is about to be found out!

Thursday, 13 August 2009

Leonard Cohen - Future

They’re a strange bunch of guys, eunuchs. You don’t come across many these days. At least I don’t, in fact, I don’t come across any. But historically, I’m told, there were lots of them. Enough for eunuchs to be a cultural group, to have their own community.
So I search the Web, and what the hell do I know? There’s a whole subculture out there. Men who have been surgically castrated; not because anyone forced it cruelly upon them, but because it’s what they wanted. Some sites claim it’s a fetish. (The Eunuch Archive), others that it’s BME. Body Modification Ezine. This can be anything from tattoos and simple piercing, to castration.
Well, well.
It’s strange to me. But that doesn’t mean to say it’s wrong.
I’m recalling reading Mary Renault’s wonderful book; THE PERSIAN BOY. Must be 30 years since I took it off the shelf. Renault writes beautifully about Bagoas, a boy taken, during a raid on his home, and castrated. Bagoas’ sublime beauty is his salvation, and eventually he becomes Alexander’s (as in Alexander the Great) boy. Okay it’s a romanticized version of a barbaric practice, but it works because of Renault’s dedicated research into the period, her convincing delineation of character and her driven narrative. She knows how to tell a story.
Then recently, I came across Anne Rice’s CRY TO HEAVEN. This is set in 18th century Venice; a time of decadence and opulence. Tonio is the mysterious singer with the beautiful voice. He serenades Venice in the moonlight. One day his voice will crack and break; Tonio knows this. It is what he expects. But his life changes when he is taken from his home and he is castrated. It is Tonio’s voice that is his salvation and he becomes the most famous Castrati of his day. All right, another romanticized version of cruel events, but like Mary Renault, Anne Rice, diligently researches her subject. Her carefully crafted images, of Tonio’s haunting voice fill the pages. The loss was worth it for Tonio, as he takes vengeance on the man responsible for his brutalisation.
I listened to some castrati singing the other day. It’s chilling and haunting; quite, quite beautiful. It’s available on cd. Alessandro Moreshi. Born 1858. The only Castrato singer to make a sound recording.


A eunuch is a castrated man, in particular one castrated early enough to have major hormonal consequences; the term usually refers to those castrated in order to perform a specific social function, as was common in many societies of the past. The earliest records for intentional castration to produce eunuchs are from the Sumerian city of Lagash in the twenty first century BC. Over the millennia since, they have performed a wide variety of functions in many different cultures such as: courtiers or equivalent domestics, treble singers, religious specialists, government officials, military commanders, and guardians of women or harem servants. In some translations of ancient texts, individuals identified as eunuchs sometimes historically included men who were impotent with women, as well as those who were celibate.

From Wiki

A castrato is a man with a singing voice equivalent to that of a soprano, mezzo-soprano, or contralto voice produced by castration of the singer before puberty or one who, because of an endocrinological condition, never reaches sexual maturity.

Castration before puberty (or in its early stages) prevents a boy's larynx from being transformed by the normal physiological events of puberty. As a result, the vocal range of prepubescence (shared by both sexes) is largely retained, and the voice develops into adulthood in a unique way. As the castrato's body grew, his lack of testosterone meant that his epiphyses (bone-joints) did not harden in the normal manner. Thus the limbs of the castrati often grew unusually long, as did the bones of their ribs. This, combined with intensive training, gave them unrivalled lung-power and breath capacity. Operating through small, child-sized vocal cords, their voices were also extraordinarily flexible, and quite different from the equivalent adult female voice, as well as higher vocal ranges of the uncastrated adult male.

Monday, 10 August 2009

I’ve just finished reading M.Christian’s superb collection of stories, LICKS AND PROMISES, and I’m trying to catch my breath. Such a fascinating display of twists and turns, demonstrating the themes of desire, lust, disappointment, betrayal, death and more.

There’s humour here too, in the brilliant “Regrets.” Who says Americans don’t do irony? Well, the Brits mostly, and I am one. But Christian shows that up for the silly concept that it is, in this wonderfully, intelligent piece of satire.

And there are tears in “The Waters of Biscayne Bay.” Grief and anger for a lost love and the fulfillment of a lover’s last wishes.

Christian gives us an innovative look into Edward Hopper’s great painting; NIGHTHAWKS, in his story of the same name. He teaches us, how to read a painting. Who is the woman with the red hair, in the red dress? Is the man sitting next to her partner, or are they two strangers desiring each other? Both, are lost in their thoughts. Christian subtly weaves a story around Hopper’s haunting painting. He walks us around this enigmatic couple, and we ponder about what might, or might not be going on.

There’s a lament in “The Waters of life" and a sense of loss as Christian reveals that the loved and revered art work is not what it seems. The loved one is not what he seemed, and we taste the bitter flavour of disappointment.

In “The House of the Rising Sun," a woman learns to love, and live again, after a betrayal, and in the wonderful “In Control,” just who is in control? The self important dom, who’s too mean to pay more than $50 for a sex toy, or the canny sub, who takes her pleasure, and leaves?

There’s a twist at the end of, “Her First Thursday Evening." A guy edits, and changes his lover’s first disastrous sexual experience, into one that is beautiful. But he can’t rewrite his own story; he wishes he could.

Through this wonderful collection, M.Christian shows the skill and diversity of a unique writer. He creates solid, fully rounded characters. He tells us stories that are enticing, he draws us in. He makes us laugh; very often he makes us cry. Christian loves language and words. Never, never dull, he encourages the reader to identify with and empathise with, his skilfully drawn characters. He brings us back to the simplicity of reading great stories, that stay with us long after we have closed the book.

Sunday, 9 August 2009

Aero - Melt


Welcome to my blog, created today. It's my first cyber adventure, so be gentle with me! Please help me make it fun. I so badly need to laugh. Send me witty stuff, sexy stuff. I like erotica and fetish. Satire is good. Rascist and homophobic stuff is not and I don't want it. Thanks but no thanks.