A Letter to a Modern-Day Adonis

Dear Charlie Hunnam,

As I have stated in my post title above, you, Charlie, are a modern-day Adonis, and so must be the recipient of my latest letter. Kudos to you.

It is true, you are best known as the tortured soul Jax Teller from Sons of Anarchy, and while I have not been privy to much of your other work, I do believe the multitude of sex scenes with delectable ass shots in SOA may have had something to do with that. (It’s like two scoops of butter pecan ice cream…) I must admit, there are very few nude males that I would gladly torment my eyes with, (as I am very much a boob gal, and do so adore a good titty display) but you, kind sir, are welcome to remain naked in front of my vision indefinitely.

It is still a bit disturbing to me that you hale from Newcastle upon Tyne. As well-read as I am, I had no idea what the fuck that meant, but investigated enough to find that it was somewhere in England. Cheeri-o, mate! I actually hope to never hear your original accent, which I assume is British, because you seem to be so down-to-earth and not at all pompous as generally English people tend to be. However, if you ever decide you wish to share your man-meat with me in a carnal fashion, I will allow you to adopt whatever foreign crappy accent you deem appropriate. Just know that I am not quite certain what my reaction may be if I hear, “Tha’ wus fookin’ gright, love.” after we’ve spent ourselves. I may be forced to shut you up by sitting on your not-quite-shaven face.

You may be delighted to know, too, that even my very straight Rockstar has taken notice of your perfectly-sculpted physique. He does not blame you in the least for incessantly posting shirtless pictures of yourself on your official Facebook page. “After working out like hell to look like that, can you blame him?” were his exact words. I think you may just have a chance with him…

I seem to recall having watched a little-known movie a few years back starring you, in which, I’m sure, you were superb. Sadly, I do not recall you being naked, and so it was not noteworthy. Do not get me wrong, oh Gorgeous One- you need not be bare-assed for me to adore you. I can prove it is true by saying I’ve had two dreams in which you starred, neither of which you were nude in. (Sadly.) I must ask: why weren’t you naked in my dreams? I mean, for real. What the fuck?!

I do not think you are aware of my ….fetish for long-haired men. Let me only say that when your hair is of a shorter ilk, I would not so readily do you. But, if you were there lying naked in my bed, I suppose I could lower my standards a tad so as not to waste a good boner.

I applaud you for turning down the role of Christian Grey in the movie version of Fifty Shades. As beautiful as you are, not even you could have saved it from sucking balls. Although, if you had retained the role, I would have, of course, rushed out to buy the DVD no matter how terrible the film was, if only to see you shirtless and spanking someone. Do not be discouraged. I will write for you a well-written smutty book that can be turned into the biggest blockbuster of all time.

In closing, I would like to say that you, Charlie Hunnam, have almost cured me of my insane love for Christopher Meloni; I haven’t dreamed of him since you came into the picture.

Always yours, (even if it is only in my dreams)

Sparklebumps XOXO

 

A Break From Monday

 

I began today with a to-do list of unending proportions. I have accomplished eight of the fourteen things on my list, (because I did, indeed, write an actual list for the day) and have decided that’s about enough work for now. So, as I logged into my blog account, I thought to myself, “Self! What better way to relax than to write some good old-fashioned smut?!”  What an excellent idea! I know I’ve said it before, but let me just give Mr. Grey and his Fifty Shades a run for his ill-earned money:

 

I remembered my training- how it felt when the cool links of the silver choke chain tightened around my neck, and how Professor’s massive hand spread across my exposed rear felt red-hot as he chastised me after I’d been too eager when I’d had him in my mouth. My refusal to stop fellatio had caused him to spend himself more quickly than he’d wanted, and I drank him in hungrily before he pushed me away. I saw the lust and indignation mingled in his eyes just before the leash connected to my collar was yanked forcefully forward, making my behind the perfect distance away for a good beating. The spanking wasn’t the reason I’d disobeyed him, though it was delicious in its agony, but what came after that I’d been insubordinate for. Professor always felt contrite after his punishments, and the severe hands that administered such harsh disciplines were as equally tender afterward.

That had been Professor’s flaw.

The chain around my neck was the same, a gift from Professor. He’d lowered it over my head that final day, and as the links fell cold around my collarbone, Professor had twisted the end loop around his meaty fingers slowly until it was cutting off my air. I’d hoped for one last time with him, a farewell, and my body responded as it had so many times before. Professor looked into my eyes, and I saw the almost imperceptible smile touch the corner of his well-formed lips. He knew his effect on me. He had taught me well.

He whispered in my ear, and his breath burned like fire on my skin, igniting an invisible trail of sensual gunpowder down the length of my body.

“Do not shame me.”

I would not. But the curiosity of what such brazenness would bring was always in the back of my mind. With my new master, I knew the chastening would be exquisite torture.

He stood before me now as I knelt, my leash lying loose in his hand. He saw me looking at it, waiting for his fist to close and the length of it to tighten, but instead, he dropped it.

No, this one would not feel contrition.

I think I made a small whimper when I realized it, which made him smile wickedly. Professor had said he was a venerable master, and I had not doubted it. I knew the satisfaction would be superb, but I could tell already that the waiting would be excruciating.

“Come here.” His voice was liquid-smooth, a deep sound that washed over me. I crawled forward, feeling a void at the end of my leash where a hand should have been. I kept my eyes downcast.

“Look at me.” His hand, the one that had dropped the end of my leash, cupped my chin and pulled it up until I saw his eyes gazing into my own. They were blue. The blue of an icy winter sky.

“You will look at me while you please me.”

This was new. A master had never before required such a thing. I did as he said.

 

 

Writing Lessons

So I am in the midst of the final leg of a trilogical journey. Let me make an observation here.

E. L. James’ writing did NOT get better with practice.

Yes, I am once again referring to the disaster known as The Fifty Shades bonanza.

One thing any person that reads occassionally may tell you if you ask is that a book that is excellent and well-written is hard to put down. (Unless, in some cases, it is too intense and one needs time to cool down.) Let me point out something here.

I’ve had no issues putting down these books. In fact, I’ve been wallowing through the last one for almost a month because I get so easily distracted from the relationship between Ana and Christian Grey.

Perhaps it’s the “Gah!” and “Argh!” I keep reading.

Let me explain.

There is a bit of sexual content in these books, and nearly every instance is punctuated with these words.

I don’t know about you, but even in the throes of passion, I’ve never used the word (if indeed it even is a word) “argh.”

In fact, when I think about it, even my un-passionate moments are devoid of this word.

It is safe to say that I would perhaps only use the word “argh” in a text, that would not be spoken out loud.

Men, I have a question for you- If a woman cried “Argh” while you were doing here, would your reaction be to groan in your throat and come?

I didn’t think so.

How about “GAH!” ?

Does that speak to a baser feeling in the pit of your stomach?

I actually began giggling when I read two pages of a sex scene and noticed Ana repeating, “Ah.” “Ah.” Ah.” Was she gonna climax, or was she gonna sneeze?

It is true that I have never weilded my penis in a way that would perhaps make women react thus, (except my faux one that one time with that one girl) but I would assume that “Oh, god” and “fuck me” would be the standard desired response.

Too, would a man punctuate his thrusting with “You. Are. So. Beautiful.” ?

Because Christian Grey did.

I believe I would also giggle if that happened in real life.

Anastasia Steel described it as “Hedonism gone wild.”

Here is an excerpt from the last book.

“In one efficient move, he dispenses with his pants and boxer briefs so that he’s gloriously naked and looming large and ready over me.”

Translation: “He whips his huge boner out and is ready to stick it in.”

Here is an example of how I would have worded that phrase- “He smoothly slipped out of his clothes, and I drew in a sharp breath when I saw his want for me.”

Please tell me that’s a bit better than “someone looming large over me.” It sounds as though he had a monstrous mutation hiding in his pants.

No, Anastasia’s not the only one who states the obvious in monosyllibic and uninteresting ways.

“Oh, you’re so ready.”

No shit, Christian. You generally want a girl to be wet after playing with her clit and stroking her nipples. If she’s not, I’m sorry to say that she’s probably not that into you.

“Oh, what you do to me.”

Tell us, Christian, because I can’t quite figure it out by the thing looming large over Ana.

At least he thinks she has a “glorious ass”.