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Thursday, January 31, 2013

Guest Blog: M.S. Spencer: Purple Prose: Metaphors for the Sex Act

I can see I’ve caught your attention.

Yes, I’m blogging on all those lovely little descriptions you find in romances for the activity that every story dances around: SEX. Yup. Copulation, making love, sexual intercourse, cohabitation, fornication, coitus, sleeping together, screwing, making whoopie, mating, diddling…where was I? Oh, yeah. Sex.

Let’s assume that both readers and writers long for a new and original way to describe the sex act; that is, besides adding more bodies to the pile or changing bits of them around. For all those who desire a good old-fashioned male-female, yin-yang, romantic entwining, but want to hear about it in a fresh way, we give you Purple Prose.

It turns out there are a million ways to move from that first kiss to the deep sigh of satisfaction (what used to be the cigarette moment) at the conclusion. First, you have the gazillion terms for male and female sex organs. Then you can choose from an assortment of positions (cf. Kama Sutra) and settings (say, the futon in the hero’s mom’s house, the back of a pickup truck, or less romantic spots like a forest glade or the beach). Even the actual movement varies from phase to phase of the operation—from “rubbing” to “pistoning” to “sucking,” etc.

“But,” you cry, “surely purple prose is more than a bunch of technical terms strung together!” You are so right. Good purple prose captures the way it feels when your lover’s skin first touches yours, when flesh connects with flesh, when the proper Body Part A fits perfectly into Part B. And then, once everything’s aligned, it employs word images to describe the primordial, steadily accelerating rhythm, images that not only ring true to the reader but draw her deep into the scene. What does the heroine experience as her orgasm climbs up and over her? What is her lover thinking—or rather, what sensations strike his synapses as the pace speeds to its climax?

I’ve provided some examples below that hopefully convey that swirling, misty moment when yin and yang meet and fuse. So, sit back in that comfy chair, put the tea down, and enjoy.

The first is from my new release, Mai Tais & Mayhem, romance and mystery on the Florida Gulf coast, in which pigs, true love, sea turtles, Russians, parrots, murder, and money figure prominently, not necessarily in that order.

Mai Tais and Mayhem Murder at Mote Marine (a Sarasota Romance) 
Secret Cravings (January 2013)
EBook, contemporary romantic suspense/mystery, M/F, 2 flames
Buy Link

“Tessa? Are you awake?”

Relief and something warm and fuzzy flooded through her. “Yes, Cameron.”

“I’m bringing coffee up.”

A minute later a tall, cool piece of manhood framed the doorway. He ducked his golden brown head under the lintel and set a tray down beside the bed. A sunbeam rippled through the window, melding with Cameron’s eyes. An image flashed across her mind, of swimming naked in a vernal pool under the canopied rainforest, begging the green-eyed leopard that drank from the verge to come make love to her. A heavy body bouncing on the bed brought her out of the trance. “Stop that! You remind me of my brother.”

“Was he a brat too?” Cameron’s eyes glinted with humor.


“Ah, but he didn’t make up for it the way I do. At least I hope not.”

Tessa lost her will to argue as his fingers found their mark under the sheet. “Urgggh. Unnnh. Oooh.”

“Is that the extent of your repartee?” His voice—and his fingers—were relentless. Two fingers kneaded her thigh, then crawled toward the sweet spot. Tessa could feel her juices start to ooze in anticipation and when the tip of his thumb bore down on her clitoris her muscles clamped down, urging him on. Just as the orgasm began to click he pulled out with a wet, smacking sound. “Cameron!”

“Patience, patience.” He pulled up the quilt and ducked his head under it. She felt his tongue flick at the so-sensitive labia and she spread her legs wide to give him an entrance. The tickling drove her crazy. She wanted to thrash about, to let herself buck, but feared she’d lose the connection with that rough, agile tongue. Finally, she slowed, breathing as steadily as she could, waiting. His fingers joined his tongue in her hole, rubbing, squeezing, licking. Without warning her climax hit. Before he could fly off her, she clamped her thighs around his head and rode his lips like a mermaid on a dolphin, moaning in ecstasy.

When she’d settled back he extricated himself, whistling softly. “My, we’re certainly energized today. You were so sedate last night.”

She looked up quickly to see his mouth tilted up in a waggish grin. Her stomach rumbled, begging for food, but she decided she could put it off for a few more minutes. “Let’s see how you handle yourself in a similar situation.” And she went to work.

The second excerpt is from Artful Dodging, in which Milo Everhart, artist, meets her match in lawyer Tristram Brodie on the battleground of the old munitions factory turned art center called the Torpedo Factory.

Artful Dodging: The Torpedo Factory Murders (an Old Town Romance)
Secret Cravings Publishing (April 2012)
eBook and Print, Contemporary romantic suspense/ mystery, M/F, 2 flames
Buy Link

EXCERPT (R): The Second Time is Better (ADULT LANGUAGE)
Tristram took her arm. “Do you think we’ll have a white Christmas this year?”

The question first hit her as so unromantic, she worried her little dream would dissipate into the night, but then the words took on a cozy kind of comfort, like the chitchat of an old established couple. “I don’t know.”

He sniffed the air. “Smells like snow. Come on, Milo.”

She followed him, stifling both the disappointment and her desire. He’s going to offer me a drink and send me home. And that’s okay. I’ll be fine. Oh, but look at that butt and those shoulders. Is he sexier in Armani or L.L. Bean?

He closed the door behind her, ran his arms around her middle, and kissed the back of her neck. The little hairs rose to meet him. Electricity shot through her like a high-tension power line. He touched the top of her head and slowly spun her around to face him. His eyes burned into hers, and her mouth went dry.


“Yes, Tristram?”

“Do you know where you are?”

“Um…your house?”

He grinned. “Just checking. You didn’t remember much about our last…encounter, and I want to make sure you are conscious during every single minute you spend here.”

Yeah, right. Forget the small talk and take me to bed, you big gorgeous lug.


Oh my God, I said that out loud! Shit.

It was too late to take back. He didn’t appear to be listening anyway. He dropped her coat on the floor and lifted her, taking the stairs two at a time. Translucent shafts of light from a recessed panel illuminated the California king that took up most of the room.

Tristram lit a tall, white candle on the bureau and touched her shoulder. “Milo? May I?”

One hand went to the buttons on her blouse, and he undid them carefully. Why did he have to be so polite? Why didn’t he just rip her clothes off like he did the last time? Not that I remember. She let the blouse fall, her breath coming in short gasps. He reached out and cupped one of her breasts, encased in delicate orchid lace. He pulled the lace down with his index finger, allowing the nipple to lift its hungry head. He flicked at it until it stood up hard and ready for something more substantial. Obligingly, he leaned down and licked it. Then he gently unhooked the bra and licked the other nipple. Milo didn’t think she could stand much more.

His hand moved to the button of her jeans. She tightened her abdomen as he unzipped them and let his hand reach in and cup the mound. She fought the urge to press against it but gave in when he started to knead. Her vulva inflamed, releasing the juices like slow-moving lava, soaking the thin material of her bikini.

He pulled the jeans off and knelt before her. His fingers wormed their way under the panties and tickled her yearning lips. Her mind emptied of everything but the aching in her vagina. He rolled the bit of lace off, tossed it in a corner, and began to suck. Slurping and swallowing, he twisted the sensitive flesh and sent his tongue to palpate her clitoris. Milo spread her legs wider, her pussy riding his mouth like a rodeo cowgirl. The candle flickered, shimmering on his desire-glazed eyes. She shouldn’t have looked at his face—it brought her to instant orgasm. She held a hand to her mouth to stop the scream. He pulled away from her, dribbling wet kisses down the inside of her thighs.

Then her lover moved lightning fast. He tore his clothes off, pushed her onto the bed, and moved up to close with her. His cock, hard and healthy, inserted itself into her. She folded her legs around his back and began the delectable climb to climax. He slid in and out, his penis scratching the itch inside her vagina. There. Almost there. Almost…arggggh.

He collapsed on top of her.

M. S. Spencer has published six best-selling contemporary romantic suspense novels. She has lived or traveled on five continents, has several degrees, and worked in libraries, the U. S. Senate and Dept. of the Interior. She has two fabulous grown children, and for company Iggy Pop the cat.

I’d love to hear from you!
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Sandy said...

At first, I thought you had to be a man writing the first excerpt, but then by the second one I wasn't so sure. Great writing, M.S.

M. S. Spencer said...

Thanks so much Sandy!And thanks to RB4U for having me. M. S.

Harlie Reader said...

Great post M.S. The excerpts were hot but not overly graphic. Nicely done.


jean hart stewart said...

hot and sexy, just the way me and 99% of the readers like it. Thanks....

Janice Seagraves said...

Thank you for posting. I think I learned a little bit more about writing a sex scene.


M. S. Spencer said...

LOL Janice! :) M. S.

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