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Monday, October 10, 2011


Hard Or Soft: As You Like It
A.H. Scott

Taking a page from the Bard of Avon's titled, "As You Like It"; I'm diving into the choppy waters of what drives the consumer to choose soft-core romance or hardcore erotica.

In some ways, it's almost like asking why do some people like plain vanilla and others can't get enough Cherry Garcia.

There is really no concrete answer to either question.

A consumer's sensibility in the arena of sexuality is truly the key. One thing that does intrigue me is how a person would purchase my more erotic works, if they had to do it in public. Then, for me, that's the question I'd like to know the answer to. Can a smiling grandmother with white hair and chubby cheeks stand in a bookstore and ask for something really naughty to purchase, without having the eyes of displeasure hoisted upon her?

Well, it depends on who the grandma is.

Or, that stone faced businessman (you know exactly who you are out there); the one that no one would ever guess is so wicked behind closed doors in what he partakes in. Would he be the one who would go to a bookstore and purchase one of my naughtiest tales of tempestuous desire and temptation, for all the other customers to see?

Well, if that man's balls were as big in the boardroom, as they are in the bedroom, he wouldn't truly give a damn. But, then again, society would look down upon him. And that would be no matter how high a successful man he was.

Being able to stand behind the screen and buy the kinkiest and raunchiest fare can be quite liberating. And, I think that's the added bonus of writing erotica that is published via an internet publishing company. It's fun for me to wonder what kind of people are getting off on what I'm writing. It turns me on a bit, too.

Sometimes a light and flirty romance of laughter and giggles can satisfy the readers' sweet tooth. But, then again, a honey drenched erotic coupling can turn up the sizzle and scratch that seductive itch.

For me, I could bang out ten sex scenes in a row. Piece of cake. Set a scene and throw in the number of people that would be interacting, and all I need is to put the bodies in the varied positions and have them all climax. Two people, menage a trois, swingers' quartet, orgy, and all the multiple configurations in between. But, after a while of sweaty bodies banging into one another, there has to be something beneath the surface of keeping a reader's interest in what I'm writing. Now, if I only were a writer of pure erotica, 24/7 screwfest writing; then it would be an average reality for me.

But, since I'm a writer of fiction, who goes from frothy fluff to deepest decadence, it becomes a smorgasbord of stories that can be told by me. A.H. Scott is far more than just a tangling of flesh and scalding dialogue of scintillation.

As a writer, it's the audience I'm writing for and the level of desire that fills the characters I'm writing about. If it's a married couple in a loving relationship, then affection is the key between husband and wife. But, there are times when a scene can go from timid to tawdry, just by changing around a few words and bringing the scenario to vivid clarity.

Below is a sample of the same scene between a woman and man. The first version of the scene is flowery and tenderly loving. The second is towards the scorching scale of tittilation. Enjoy this quick scene, I've titled, "Bratty Girl"

Bratty Girl (Soft Version) -

Bridget had always been spoiled. Everett was her father's newest protege. Staying after work late one night, both found something they had in common.....

Everett brushed his hand against Bridget's back, as they stood inside of her father's office. Pearl silk blouse with black skirt and black pumps gave her the look of a quite fetching female.

Her black hair pulled back in a tight twist was appealing to his eyes, as she turned around and whispered, "Oh, Everett, I've waited so long for us to be alone."

"Bridget, now is our time to be together." Everett held her by the shoulders and smiled. "Let me kiss you, darling."

They kiss...hug....and begin to make love on her father's mahogany desk....

(the sounds of bluebirds fill the air and the sun continues to shine outside of the window.... aaah, perfect)

Soft and sweet. Now, that was simple.

Yet, you probably want the hotter version. Well, that's what I'm here for, my lusty friends.

I guess I'll just have to show it to you, instead of just talking around it. Taking a deep breath, I'm now going to reveal the more arousingly adventurous version of the scene.

Bratty Girl (Hardcore Version) -

Bridget was always a brat. Every man who worked for her father knew that. Everett was one of her father's drones and she thought her position would always be on top with him.

Yet, for every bratty action by this pouty brunette, there was a man to take her to task.

Clicking of the door to her father's office behind her gave Bridget a tinge of concern. But, Everett knew this was his boss' daughter.

He had plans all his own for her.

A little chat began and led to the following actions between he and she. Pearl blouse off, skirt tossed on chair. But, it was Bridget who was in for a shock of reality, hitting her in the rear.

Bridget thought she could seduce Everett. But, he took the brunette by the thong.

"You don't think I know about you, Bridget," fingers twisted thong and ripped it off of her.

Acting surprised by his action, "I don't know what you're talking about."

Everett knew about Bridget's free time spent at one of the city's high priced bordellos. She may have been an heiress by day. But, she was a whore by night. This protege of her father was going to put this bratty daughter to his own type of test.

"I saw you the other night at the Darby Light. And, you performed quite well on that young stud," Everett remarked on seeing Bridget give a guy in his 20's a blowjob in the hallway at that bordello.

"Shit!" Folding arms, she moaned, "Get the hell out of this office, you prick."

Speaking of pricking, that is what Everett was going to do to this bitchy woman. Everett rubbed her shoulders and she rolled her eyes at him. He licked his tongue against her neck and she began to moan.

You see, Bridget enjoyed playing the lady and was at heart, an actual whore.

There was Bridget with no thong and no way out of not fulfilling this ever stiffening rod of Everett. She would be his whore for a few moments, right now.

Not even giving Bridget the dignity of taking off his pants, Everett pulled her head down to his crotch, "Unzip my pants and suck my cock, Bridget".

She unzipped his pants and grabbed that rigid cock. Shaft sucked and balls played with were just some of Bridget's tricks of lust.

Thong at her feet, Everett laughed, "Honey, don't worry about being bare down there. Because, I like clear skies to travel."

Off her knees, Everett purred in her ear, "I'm going to fuck you like you deserve, Bridget."

Lifting Bridget onto her father's desk, Everett plowed inside of those slippery folds. As he banged the hell out of her pussy, she moaned and he laughed. Everett knew exactly what lied behind silk blouses and pearl necklaces of this daughter of society.

Reaching behind her, he unhooked that bra. Her breasts were free and he kissed them, as their bodies continued to put that desk to good use.

He came all over her pussy lips, as a slight stream began to roll down those spreading thighs and legs.

Zipping up his pants, Everett kissed her bare breast and chuckled, "I'll have to thank your daddy for having such good taste in owning such a sturdy desk."

"Hey, where are you going?" breathlessly, Bridget asked the man who'd just banged the hell out of her on that desk.

"I've got a date with a sexy little number from the secretarial pool," Everett smirked, as he walked towards the office door. He grasped the doorknob and looked back at the woman prone and spent on that wood, "Bridget, you're such a fucking brat. Your twat was good, honey. But, it ain't all that".

He left her alone on that desk, with a dripping snatch and clothes tossed on the floor.

Bridget turned out not to be such a brat. Bridget was just a higher class whore....

Grabbing my silver lighter, I'll light your cigarettes, my friends. Because, I know it had to be good for all of you. Wipe those beads of sweat forming on your brows and take a deep breath.

As I start to place my golden pen down, I'll give this little bit of advice to those who don't wish to go hardcore - You never know how nice the deep end of the ocean is, if you take the leap...

Exhaling and Reflecting,
A.H. Scott

Draped in freedom's spirit, A.H. Scott is a sizzling scribe of unveiling sensuality. Residing in the Northeastern United States, this writer is armed with pouting pen of passion and pulsating digits pounding against keyboard. Between this lady's manicured fingers, a snaggy stylus lacerates parchment and masticates digits against a misting keyboard towards a just climax literary longing.

"As an author, I enjoy letting my characters and plots that I've created get inside of the reader's heads. I make a promise to anyone that rolls the dice and catches a glimpse of my work that you will never be bored. Your eyes, mind and soul shall be thrilled. This is my bond to you, the reader. No simplicity ever from A.H. Scott. Always complexity is my main intent on anyone who reads my work." - A.H. Scott

“I want the reader to be affected in two ways - above the neck & below the belt”. - A.H. Scott

"I believe art should be as enigmatic as the artist who creates it." A. H. Scott

A.H. Scott's novel, "Rack Em", is published by Eirelander Publishing


Debby said...

What a great post! I read based on my mood. Sometime I want a just plain romance and sometimes I want something different. Loved the way you changed the excerpt.
debby236 at gmail dot com

A.H. Scott said...

Thank you, Debby. I'm glad you liked the post. Sometimes you feel light as a feather and want the clouds of comfort to envelope your soft shoulders. But, then there are those moments when you need a little more spice to spark all your senses.

A simple turn of a phrase and twist of an emotion within a line of words, can be make all the difference.

Moods change and so do the types of fiction which is written and read.

Freedom of thought is priceless..

A.H. Scott