Saturday, December 21, 2013

Io Saturnalia!


I'll be offline for a while due to the holidays, so I'll see you again in the new year! 

Friday, December 20, 2013

Priapus of Milet Galleries - Animated Classical Gay Porn

This man may just be my hero! Combining sexuality and the Ancient World - at least I'm not the only one out there who sees how wonderful the union is. Besides, his animation skills are divine.

Check out some of his work here.

My favorites are: Mythology (particularly like the "Education of Achilles"), Laoccon (story told in pictures), the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire (just plain awesome!), and Ludi Romani!

These are depictions of gay sexual acts, just so you are warned ahead of time.

Priapea - Verses of Priapus, in translation (by Elise Green)



Fascinus, a Roman "phallic" god, usually displayed to ward off the evil eye and as a good luck charm.
This one was found in Lynn U.K. back in 2012. It is unique in that it is pure gold.


Verse 2

Ludens haec ego teste te, Priape,
horto carmina digna, non libello,
scripsi non nimium laboriose.
nec Musas tamen, ut solent poetae,
ad non virgineum locum vocavi.
nam sensus mihi corque defuisset
castas, Pierium chorum, sorores
auso ducere mentulam ad Priapi.
ergo quicquid id est, quod otiosus
templi parietibus tui notavi,
in partem accipias bonam, rogamus.

Playing, Priapus, you as witness, I wrote these
worthy songs for the garden, not for this collection,
painstakingly not excessive.
Yet neither the Muses, as poets are accustomed,
I didn’t call to the maidenly seat.
On the other hand for me feeling and heart
had abandoned the pure sisters, the Pierian chorus,
to lead the cock of Priapus to this venture.
Therefore whatever it is, which I, idle,
inscribed on the walls of your temple,
you may admit on the good side, we ask.


Disclaimer: The author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.

Wednesday, December 18, 2013

Mythology on Television, a look at “nothing new under the sun”


So, I’ve spent a lot time telling and retelling the stories of the Olympians, with their associated mortal love-interests and mortal-enemies, and all their minions (those minor deities everyone tends to forget about) in my daily, not-so-much a grind, career. I spend so much time, it seems, wrapped up in this world, that when I get home and finally get a chance to sit down and turn on the television, that I find myself watching crime dramas. And, why crime dramas? Well, because everything else on tv just seems too similar to what I retell day in a day out. Crime dramas, on the other hand, don’t seem to have one single detail I can pull out that make me think about mythology. Well, unless the murder happens at a dominatrix’s one-stop sex shop called Aphrodite’s Shell… oh boy, but I can’t wait for that episode!

Anyways, how so, you are wondering, can I find mythology on all these other tv shows that, on the outside, seem to have so little in common with the stories of a long-gone people and religion? Here’s how:

Survivor
A group of folks, from different backgrounds, thrust into a fight for their right to survive (and not get voted off the island) the contrived scenarios of a producer for a final prize. Huh, sounds to me like the story of the Minotaur’s labyrinth. Fourteen young virgins (boys and girls) are chosen and sent to wander, and hopefully survive, a man-made and totally contrived maze. And, the prize? Well, of course it’s the hand of Ariadne. Though, in the end, Theseus does indeed get voted off the island or, rather, Ariadne gets voted to stay on the island.

Real Housewives of Wherever
Let’s imagine it more like the Real Housewives of Zeus… yup, he had a lot of them and between the many and his “real” wife, Hera, there is more than enough tension to draw any viewer in. Not to mention, the chaos involved when at least one them is, in fact, a cow.

How I Met Your Mother
Basically, any of the ancient world’s Zeus-fathered heroes and heroines. How can you possibly explain away the turning into of a swan and how, exactly, your mother fell for that and allowed the seduction to continue. Those poor children on the couch would be traumatized forever. Although, imagine all the hilarity of trying to talk your and your friends actions into a believable meet-cute story.

The Bachelor/Bachelorette
Oh, yes, Apollo. The poor lost soul. A handsome, young, musically-inclined god, who nevertheless can’t seem to get at least one girl to go out on a date with him. I don’t care how many women you get to sign on for this show, but all will be dying to call their fathers for help out of the house by the end of the first episode. And, the unlucky one, who finally gets chosen, well, she may indeed become that rose she is carrying. Anything to get out of Apollo’s arms.

True Blood
Hades has it. The blood, the undead, and the love triangle. Well, in his case, he sort of fixed the triangle issue, but still, he has to share his lover with her mother.

And, not only that, but I swear every single one of the day-time dramas, soap operas, are just modern recreations of the same myths I retell. In fact, I’d almost be willing to bet that whenever a writer on these shows gets writer’s block, all he or she does is open up a book of mythology and just plain steal the ancient idea. Nothing like plagiarizing the dead!

What I would actually like to see on television would be an ongoing series along the lines of Friends and Two and Half Men, but with characters from Ancient Rome; specifically, Nero, the Emperor and narrator, Agrippina, his mother (from hell!), Britannicus, his idiotic (or is he?) step-brother, Claudia, his sexy and promiscuous step-sister, his love-interest, Poppeae Sabina, and, of course, his tutor – the wise and tragic – Seneca. Now, this, I’d watch! Imagine the fun, the debauchery, all the crazy schemes and situations these folks could find themselves in.


Wait, there is a show like this on television – well, on the telly, since, really, the show is only available to the British on itv2 – called Plebs. I am not from the United Kingdom, but I did manage to procure a copy of the series on DVD and have to say, they nailed it! Just what I was imagining… albeit, without Nero… If you can get a hold on a copy, just please watch it. Those Brits do it right!



What do you think? Is there nothing new under the sun…

Tuesday, December 17, 2013

Erotica, Erotic Romance or Pornography?

Well, it never dawned on me until tonight. Is what I write pornography?

Personally, I don't think so. Here is my reasoning, whether you agree or not: To me, pornography's sole purpose is to turn on the receiver (be it viewer, reader, spectator, actor, etc.) in whatever way works for them. Pornography is created and sold to get someone hot under the collar and damp in the drawers. There isn't much else to it. The context is irrelevant.


Now, as to erotica, for me, it comes down to the context. Sure, most often it still turns on the receiver, sometimes better than pornography, but is that all it does? Erotica invites conversation and opens discussion. Erotica begs the receiver to consider the context of the sex. There isn't only sex, just sitting there, happening, instead there is background and color. Maybe the sex involves the complexities of a relationship, either blossoming or failing tragically. Maybe the sex questions beliefs or understandings of attraction. Maybe the sex just so happens to create interest in a new form of expression (what's that, the lotus position?). Maybe, and this is where I tend to write, the sex allows exploration of the many variations on the meaning of sexuality and pleasure. I have to admit, I tend to go for the old faithfuls in my sexual relationship. But, what about other forms of pleasure, other combinations of humanity and sexuality? Erotica allows the creator and receiver to open that door - to awaken the question and seek out the answer. Pornography might do the same, but that is never it's purpose.

Whether it is art or not, doesn't even enter the picture for me. What is the purpose? What is the context?

Yet, that isn't even all there is... what about the differences between romance, erotic romance, and erotica?

Well, I just had to delve into that, too. Lime Cello wrote an excellent article on this distinction, though, I am not quite sure I actually agree with all her points. Nonetheless, here is what she had to say on the matter:
Romance: a story where the characters fall in love. It focuses on their relationship, and the reader is certain the characters will be in love, and stay in love. For ever.
Erotic Romance: The same as above, but with explicit sex. The sex is instrumental to the development of the relationship, and helps further the connection between the hero and heroine.
Erotica: A story with explicit, graphic sex, that focuses on the emotions of the characters—not necessarily the relationship (good or bad)—and no happy ending required.
As far as I go, I love the erotic romance more than the straight romance, though I did spend a great deal of my younger years reading gothic romances - Barbara Michaels is my hero! Romance is all fine and dandy, but we aren't living in the Victorian Age anymore and sex is a part of life. The sexual chemistry between a couple can help cement a relationship or bring the relationship to its knees, when the couple realizes that's all there is to the pairing. And, this is where I have to disagree with Ms. Cello, I don't believe romance, of any type, must end in happily ever after, forever. Romance can exist without the benefit of forever or happy. That being said, I do agree with her approach to erotica. The emotional aspect, the context, is the important part... other than the explicit sex, of course. And, between the two, the erotic romance; I'm not even sure that exists as anything separate from romance in today's world. In fact, pretty sure those two have never really existed at the same time. It used to be romance, maybe still is in some small, niche, genre, somewhere, now, though, all romances, the commercial and the bestsellers, have that little bit of sexual spice thrown in.

Who knows, maybe in time, following the success of Fifty Shades of Grey and such, erotica will take over and both romance and erotic romance will shift to the back wall. Doubt it, but as an erotica author, I can always hope, right?


Monday, December 16, 2013

Priapea - Verses of Priapus, in translation (by Elise Green)


Verse 1

Carminis incompti lusus lecture procaces,
   conveniens Latio pone supercilium.
non soror hoc habitat Phoebi, non Vesta sacello,
   nec quae de patrio vertice nata dea est,
sed ruber hortorum custos, membrosior aequo,
   qui tectum nullis vestibus inguen habet.
aut igitur tunicam parti praetende tegendae,
   aut quibus hanc oculis adspicis, ista lege.

You, about to read the frivolous amusements of the unpolished verse,
   place the fitting frown on Latin sensibility.
Not the sister of Phoebus, not Vesta in her shrine, dwell here,
  and not the goddess who has sprung forth from the father's head,
but the crimson protector of the gardens, a cock larger than is fair,
   who keeps it hidden under no clothing.
Either, therefore, stretch out the tunic for the part to be covered,
   or read such with which eyes you behold these verses.

------------------------------------------------------------



This epigram is the introductory verse of the remaining collection of poems which are said could be found etched on statues of Priapus which the Romans placed as protective guardians in their gardens, like ancient versions of the modern garden gnome. More likely, a group of popular poets from the 1st century met at the house of a main patron of the arts, Maecenas, and composed these ditties for fun.

Disclaimer: The author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.

Sunday, December 15, 2013

Mills & Boon Publishers - How to Write Erotic Fiction - Sex is not enough!

Oh, how timely... you ask and the Muse answers!


So, I took their advice and wrote for ten minutes - an erotic scene using (a glass of) water. Here's what I came up with. Honest feedback welcome!


Her hands cupping beneath the cool water, she raised them slowly, watching mesmerized as the water fell in a cascade through her fingers, down her arms, and smoothly across the rise of her breasts. One droplet hung, frozen for a moment suspended from the very tip of her peaked, pale pink nipple. A summer sigh, not enough to even call a breeze, wafted from the summit of the trees which hid her secret spring, and hardened that same nipple. Her areola pebbled and she gasped with a blossoming pull down between her thighs. The droplet fell and the still water rippled outward, causing little waves to lap at the rocky edge of this paradise.
            A sudden crackle, nothing more than the snap of a single twig, echoed like a crack of thunder through the grove and across the spring. A decidedly masculine groan followed, deep and rumbling. Artemis lifted her eyes to the sound and met his eyes, deep brown and as surprised as her own, from a thicket of just ripening blackberry bushes. Both reacted simultaneously, her arms rising to cover her exposed breasts, he standing tall and stepping from around the bush. She rose, too, and dropped a palm down to hide the light brown curls and her awakened sex. The calm waters of her sanctuary became a heaving tempest, not unlike her emotions, though only temporary at her awkward effort. Her maidenly urge to conceal herself made him smile, dimples appearing at the corners of his lush lips.
Far too handsome for a mere mortal, when he at last announced his presence formally, “Actaeon,” offering a slight bow before her, she understood why. A grandson of the divine-born Harmonia and her divine-favored mate, Cadmus. Of course, he would find her. She had heard of him, in fact, heard from him. Actaeon was one of the best hunters in this region. His pack of fifty dogs were known throughout Greece, their progeny filling the forests of all Greece with their baying. Before each day’s hunt, he routinely went to her local temple, really nothing but a stone altar beside the path which led to this forest, and offered her a prayer for luck on the trail. Yes, she had heard from him often.
“No man is supposed to see me in this state,” she whispered, her voice rising a bit at the end as a very warm blush suffused her entire body. His gaze fell to her feet and rose with the spread of the flush. It lingered, expectantly, at her hand between her legs and at the arm braced across her breasts.
“Perhaps. But, I am no mere man…” he paused and waited, for what, she wasn’t sure. The company of men was not her usual crowd. “You are Artemis, are you not?”
“I am goddess of this forest, yes.” At this statement, her voice was strong and certain. Yes, she was a goddess and he was a mortal. She could control this situation. As goddess, all obeyed her slightest command. “And, you are not welcome. Go, now, before my retinue of nymphs return. If they spot you here, in my presence, I will have no choice but to reward your curiosity with a severe punishment.”
His booming laugh shook the leaves in the trees, almost as if they joined in his mirth. “I think not, my goddess,” Actaeon spoke clearly, taking steps forward with each word, “your nymphs are far from here, playing with the newborn fawns. I spotted them earlier today. By now, I would guess they are all dozing soundlessly in the heat of the day. You are all alone. Except for me.” At this truth, he reached out with a sun-darkened arm, muscular and heavy with deep veins, and ran the tip of his calloused finger from the ledge of her collarbone, down, along the side of her ribs.
Her body shook with the effort to maintain her resolve. She was the virgin goddess and she would not give up her designation of such to him. To no man.
His finger continued lower, skimming the dip of her waist and the rise of her hip. His eyes held hers, passion deepening the color from deep brown to nearly black. Actaeon took another step toward her, stepping down into the waters of the spring, the edge of his tunic just wetting. His other hand rose and grazed the arm across her chest, rising to slip behind her neck. His head tilted, his eyes dropped, and he leaned close into her. She knew the kiss was imminent and closed to her own eyes to deny it. But his lips hesitated, barely touching her own.
“I’ll still leave you a virgin, goddess. You have my promise.”
The pressure of his lips, then, so lush, so full, a complement to her own, ripped a harsh and lustful moan from her. She leaned in ever so slightly to deepen the kiss. And, he took full advantage.