Fuck And Writhing

As this week’s been a really draining one we decided to veg-out a bit and watch Fear And Loathing In Las Vegas. It’s quite a trip – yes, the pun was intended. Whatever you think about Johnny Depp he was born to play Hunter S. Thompson. And whatever you think of Thompson as a journalist the story told by the film, true or exaggerated, is compelling.

That is of course if you have ever got off your face. I don’t mean necessarily on LSD or mescaline, or even cannabis. Simply drinking yourself into a stupor gives you a taste of the Las Vegas drug binge depicted in the film. You wouldn’t get the intensity or the variety of experience, but being totally shit-faced is an experience that comes as a surprise and a revelation to you when you first drink to excess. That is I suppose why it’s so easy to make it a habit. Cheap alcohol and a sense of detachment can be addictive.

Sex is the same. You can read about sex, listen to and read about the experiences of others but until you actually do the deed you have no idea how it feels. The sensory experience is unique, not just to the act of sex but every time you make love. The emotional and sensory high can only be experienced, never adequately described.

So is there any point in writing erotica? I’d have to answer, yes. When writing erotica the reader’s imagination is as important as that of the author. Writing a story you always have a vision of the scenes you are describing, the emotions the protagonists feel and the sensations they experience. They combine with the reader’s experiences, orientation and desires to produce a reaction.

As with non-erotic literature two readers will read the same story and derive their own unique pleasure from it.