Recommend Erotic Books!
Posted Thu Jul 29, 2010 05:17 PM
Well I read one, and holy cow, there are some sexy scenes drawn out over many pages in there! I see how they could get anybody hot and bothered....
Got me to thinking, there must be a huge market for erotic books, not smut, classy and sexy erotic novels.
Anyone read any ??
Posted Thu Jul 29, 2010 06:05 PM
um..what's the name of the book your wife read? just curious.
Posted Thu Jul 29, 2010 06:21 PM
And he stood up, and stood away, moving to the other coop. For suddenly he was aware of the old flame shooting and leaping up in his loins, that he had hoped was quiescent for ever. He fought against it, turning his back to her. But it leapt, and leapt downwards, circling in his knees.
He turned again to look at her. She was kneeling and holding her two hands slowly forward, blindly, so that the chicken should run in to the mother-hen again. And there was something so mute and forlorn in her, compassion flamed in his bowels for her.
Without knowing, he came quickly towards her and crouched beside her again, taking the chick from her hands, because she was afraid of the hen, and putting it back in the coop. At the back of his loins the fire suddenly darted stronger.
He glanced apprehensively at her. Her face was averted, and she was crying blindly, in all the anguish of her generation's forlornness. His heart melted suddenly, like a drop of fire, and he put out his hand and laid his fingers on her knee.
"You shouldn't cry," he said softly.
But then she put her hands over her face and felt that really her heart was broken and nothing mattered any more.
He laid his hand on her shoulder, and softly, gently, it began to travel down the curve of her back, blindly, with a blind stroking motion, to the curve of her crouching loins. And there his hand softly, softly, stroked the curve of her flank, in the blind instinctive caress.
She had found her scrap of handkerchief and was blindly trying to dry her face.
"Shall you come to the hut?" he said, in a quiet, neutral voice.
And closing his hand softly on her upper arm, he drew her up and led her slowly to the hut, not letting go of her till she was inside. Then he cleared aside the chair and table, and took a brown, soldier's blanket from the tool chest, spreading it slowly. She glanced at his face, as she stood motionless.
His face was pale and without expression, like that of a man submitting to fate.
"You lie there," he said softly, and he shut the door, so that it was dark, quite dark.
With a queer obedience, she lay down on the blanket. Then she felt the soft, groping, helplessly desirous hand touching her body, feeling for her face. The hand stroked her face softly, softly, with infinite soothing and assurance, and at last there was the soft touch of a kiss on her cheek.
She lay quite still, in a sort of sleep, in a sort of dream. Then she quivered as she felt his hand groping softly, yet with queer thwarted clumsiness, among her clothing. Yet the hand knew, too, how to unclothe her where it wanted. He drew down the thin silk sheath, slowly, carefully, right down and over her feet. Then with a quiver of exquisite pleasure he touched the warm soft body, and touched her navel for a moment in a kiss. And he had to come in to her at once, to enter the peace on earth of her soft, quiescent body. It was the moment of pure peace for him, the entry into the body of the woman.
She lay still, in a kind of sleep, always in a kind of sleep. The activity, the orgasm was his, all his; she could strive for herself no more. Even the tightness of his arms round her, even the intense movement of his body, and the springing of his seed in her, was a kind of sleep, from which she did not begin to rouse till he had finished and lay softly panting against her breast.
Then she wondered, just dimly wondered, why? Why was this necessary? Why had it lifted a great cloud from her and given her peace? Was it real?
Was it real?
Her tormented modern-woman's brain still had no rest. Was it real? And she knew, if she gave herself to the man, it was real. But if she kept herself for herself it was nothing. She was old; millions of years old, she felt. And at last, she could bear the burden of herself no more. She was to be had for the taking. To be had for the taking.
The man lay in a mysterious stillness. What was he feeling? What was he thinking? She did not know. He was a strange man to her, she did not know him. She must only wait, for she did not dare to break his mysterious stillness. He lay there with his arms round her, his body on hers, his wet body touching hers, so close. And completely unknown. Yet not unpeaceful. His very stillness was peaceful.
She knew that, when at last he roused and drew away from her. It was like an abandonment. He drew her dress in the darkness down over her knees and stood a few moments, apparently adjusting his own clothing.
Then he quietly opened the door and went out."
Lady Chatterley's Lover', by DH Lawrence, first published in Florence, 1928
Posted Fri Jul 30, 2010 11:45 AM
Reallllllly good books!
But she has read them all.... and lots of others, and she is almost finished her most recent book and doesn't have another to replace it... I'd love to get an Erotic Novel and read it myself, then she'll want to read it...
She reads almost a book a week
Posted Fri Jul 30, 2010 12:03 PM
The skin of her eyelids was invaded with a reddish sunset light. It was as if the skin cells had carried red wine, first to her eyes, and then through her neck down to her breasts. The tips of the breasts acknowledged the current of warmth. It could not be a man's hand. It must be silk, a feather, the hair of a soft animal like a rabbit. How slowly it worked its way upward, as if knowing it must wait for all the little cells to awaken, and follow, cumulatively aroused, and like rivulets, foaming toward the center, the edge of small waves of pleasure adding one to the other , increasing as the hand reached a softer and softer skin.
Woman's pearl was the center of this electrical storm, a hushed storm, whirling, wrapped in cotton but incandescent, streaks of lightening, the flesh becoming a lightening conductor, iridescent with light, striking gongs of pleasure; one, two, three." ~ Anais Nin, Diaries (1939)
Posted Sat Jul 31, 2010 07:48 AM
This post has been edited by MissMayhem: Sat Jul 31, 2010 07:49 AM
Posted Mon Sep 13, 2010 03:16 PM
Oh, my yes. I have read them. I am not into BDSM but I was loving reading about it!!!
Posted Mon Sep 13, 2010 11:50 PM
So very true MM.... hottest thing i've read in my life.
Posted Tue Sep 14, 2010 08:32 AM
I didn't know it was a trilogy.. I have read the first one I think.. I'll have to see if I can find the other ones..
That book kept me in bed for an entire weekend....