Thursday, October 01, 2015

Thursday Thoughts with Sharita Lira and Remmy Duchene

Sharita and Remmy talk about Sex in Fiction

Sharita: Good Morning, readers. Today we’re talking about sex in fiction. Just how much is required to show.

Remmy: Are you being funny? It’s sexy. You show *puts on deep, Barry White-esque voice* Everything! Let it all hang free!! Binge and purge!! *Flails*

Sharita: *blinks* Um, no, I get it, but I’m talking about before your characters have sex and since we’re talking about our boys, Cyrus and Zane, we’ll cover man on man. Do we show the prep? Meaning, do we have to show them opening lube and condoms, the whole nine?

Remmy:  Depends - I don’t know man. Me, some love scenes you just want to have them go at it. But then you get that one editor who wants you to write everything step by step like a shopping list--I mean, our readers know there are condoms and lube involved without you spelling it out all the time, right??

Sharita: I suppose so, but sometimes it can be made hella sexy, too. I liked when you pointed out the sound of the lube and foil of the condom. Instead of just writing condoms and lube, you drew the reader in with a sensory description, and like you said, the more of the sexy, the better. Bring it on!

Remmy: *brushes shoulder off all gangster like* lol. But seriously, sometimes it works sometimes it’s just like *eye rolls* we know already, get on with it! What I’ve been debating on is do we always have to have lube. I mean what if it’s like impromptu booty in a nightclub bathroom? Clubs don’t have those little machines that sells condoms like the chips vending machines anymore--bah off on a tangent again. Where were we? Yes, prepping for the bow-chicka-wow-wow. Carry on.

Sharita: That’s true, they don’t and another point, if we want to make the book real, will every character have a condom and lube in his pocket each and every time he goes out?

Remmy: And the answer to that is no. Ain’t nobody got time for that. Look, I had a talk with a friend and he said the characters can spit and shine like the rest of the world. A little crude, but not everyone walks around with a lubricated condom or lube in their back pocket. Besides, have you seen how tight men’s pants have gotten? That would leave NOTHING to the imagination. I mean it would be like “are you happy to see me or is that a tube of lube in your pocket?”

Sharita: *laughs hysterically* I guess it really does depend on the situation. In a rush, go with the spit, but if they’re being all romantically into it, go with the lube. Of course, there is the argument about safety in stories with rough sex meaning anal tears, but again, this is fantasy. Let’s talk about afterwards. How much should we show with clean-up? I personally don’t usually do it. I’d rather show the afterglow or another round. lol You?

Remmy: Like you say, it’s fantasy. I skip the whole cleaning up stuff. The most in depth I get is a shower. There are some things that people know happen that you can go without mentioning.

Sharita: Agreed. I do want to say this is a matter of preference with your characters and or muses. By no means, is it set in stone so it isn’t gospel; we’re just starting what we like. I’ve seen reviews where they complained to the author about not using condoms in stories at all. They said he was promoting barebacking and encouraging the spread of AIDS.

Remmy: *eye roll* The straight up truth is you can’t write “condom” in every love scene. Some people think “this is fantasy so I’m going to write it like a fantasy.” It’s like me - for the LONGEST time I refuse to write racism in my books. I go OUT of my way to not write that crap  into my stories. That was my preference. People need to learn these books are fantasies - they should be old enough to read it and know this isn’t real life and in real life I SHOULD wear a condom. They can’t really take life lessons from erotica.

Sharita: Well said. I guess reading and writing preferences go hand in hand and that’s what all of us must remember. So Remmy, we have more sexy coming up in the next book, but right now, let’s end this post with an excerpt. Thanks everyone for listening to us ramble.

Wounded Hearts

Zane Ashford’s stint in the NYPD comes to an abrupt halt when he is injured in the line of duty. After waking up partially blind in one eye, all he wants to do is crawl into a hole, but his friends and family won’t leave him alone. Reluctantly, he lets his best friend talk him into time away on a ranch in Montana. But the moment he gets there and meets Cyrus Abrams, Zane begins to contemplate murder.

Cyrus Abrams is vulgar, ornery, stuck in his ways, and not about to change for anyone, no matter how good Zane Ashford looks in those jeans. The more they lock horns, the more Cyrus begins to see Zane in a whole new light. But Cyrus has a past, one that left him in big trouble and more broken than he cares to admit—a past no one told Zane about. Cyrus fears that when Zane finds out, everything will come to a screeching halt.


Zane’s heart snapped with that one simple, broken word. Every syllable of it tore through Zane, and for a moment, he thought it was more powerful than the bullet. Words did hurt, whether they were said in anger or sadness. What did Cyrus want him to do with all that? Zane trembled, pushing up into Cyrus’s arms and pressing his face into Cyrus’s neck.
“This is not fair,” Zane whispered, his voice cracking as anger gave way to arousal and the strangest—yet most beautiful—sensation he’d ever felt. He couldn’t fall any deeper for Cyrus. It just couldn’t happen. But even as he thought those words, Cyrus was moving atop him, rubbing against him in the most sensual way. He bit his lip, dragging his hands down Cyrus’s back while turning his mouth toward Cyrus’s lips. “This is not fair at all. How do I know this won’t happen again?”
“It won’t,” Cyrus whispered softly and placed a hand on each side of Zane’s head. He lightly kissed his forehead, tracing the lines on down to the center of Zane’s nose with the tip if his tongue. Blue eyes met Zane’s gaze. “I’m sorry, Zane. I promise you.” Cyrus nipped at Zane’s bottom lip. “It won’t.” Kiss. “Happen.” Kiss on the lips. “Again.” One more light peck on his chin.
Every part of Zane’s body throbbed sweetly. Each time Cyrus’s lips touched his heated skin, it was as if it sent electricity to every part of him. His cock twitched, rising, swelling, and pushing upward into Cyrus. Zane moaned while slipping his hands under Cyrus’s shirt. Feeling his skin did something to Zane. “Cyrus…,” he whispered helplessly, moving his head around to catch Cyrus’s lips. “Give me your mouth.”
Cyrus did as Zane asked, tangling tongues with him and fighting for prominence. He stopped and stared at Zane a moment, tracing Zane’s face with his calloused fingertips. It was like Cyrus was touching him everywhere—each pass of those fingers took more and more of Zane’s control. He couldn’t think. All he could do was feel. He sighed.
“I wanna take you upstairs. Can’t wait to be inside you again. And this time, I’m going slow, Slick. Real slow. I want you to feel me.” After kissing once more, Cyrus got up and pulled Zane to stand. He wrapped both large hands around Zane’s waist, then dropped them lower to his thighs. Cyrus squeezed both and lifted him into his arms with little effort. Cyrus continued his assault on Zane’s mouth, kissing, nipping and sucking his tongue until both were breathless. “Upstairs, now.”
Zane groaned, wrapping his legs around Cyrus. He tossed his arms around Cyrus’s neck, enjoying the kiss. Cyrus tasted like a man—hot, skillful. His anger at Cyrus flew through his mind, but it went silent as Cyrus sucked on Zane’s tongue. They bounced into something, and Zane whimpered, but pulling his mouth from Cyrus was out of the question. He’d die if their lips parted. He pushed down, feeling Cyrus’s cock press through his pants and into the crack of his ass. Anticipation filled him, remembering what happened the last time they were intimate.
I want you to feel me.

Author Bios

Remmy Duchene

Multi-published Remmy Duchene was born in St. Anns, Jamaica and moved to Canada at a young age. When not working or writing, Remmy loves dabbling in photography, travelling and spending time with friends and family.

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Sharita Lira aka BLMorticia

BLMorticia is currently a published writer who entertains her readers with hot and smexy sex, humor, and lots of swear words. She attempts to incorporate metal music or the military in most of her works. Nothin’ sexier than metalheads or military servicemen and women! For more info, please visit, Erotica With Snark


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