This week's Sunday Scribblings is kissing. I was going to try to write something creative, but actually I've been wanting to post about people writing about kissing in all the erotica I read. Some people really have describing kissing down, they really get how to do it. But no one I have read has ever described french kissing well, actually if I read one more description of "tongues dueling" I just might throw myself off this mortal coil. Tongues don't fucking "duel." I'm not quite sure how to describe what they do do, but it ain't dueling. I also don't like the description of tongues
"stroking/exploring every bit of the inside of his mouth" - that just creeps me out, what is the guy doing? Counting your teeth? I just don't know that any writer has ever done the tongue action justice - this is not to diss any writers in particular, I just don't know if the act of two wet, slimy protuberances joining in a moist environment will ever be successfully described. In fact, here, I issue an addendum on to the kissing challenge! Describe a hot french kiss, the tongues involved in it, and do it so it makes me weep for the beauty of it.

Hot fanfic is fairly difficult to find, in reality. I've been reading a lot more for the writing than the porn, but I've noticed that the writers that are just downright steamy (who needs a humidifier?) are the ones who get the angst just right. They know how to bring an intensity to the moment of copulation through the utter angst of "how can this actually work, heartbreak is imminent" and then they just desribe the act really really well. So basically, if you're looking to write hot smut, my years of reading expertise have given me the formula:
angst + hotgraphicdescription = good porn.

This is a review of some of Mairead/Aristide's fic (her dark and light personas have different noms de plumes). She is by far the angstiest, hottest slash writer out there and this review is actually of one her lighter stories.
Aristide: The Declaration

I'm just. I can't. Mo-ther. I'm just gonna paste in my fb to her as the rec:

I may have mentioned this before, but... Jesus GOD, woman! This story is a
*sin*. See, 'cause, I'm panting and my eyes are tearing and I'm at that stage
where I just want to find two recently showered huge, hairy biker bears and
let them take turns before coming back to devour them until they *scream*.

My inner sub is quivering. My inner dom is *roaring*.

But dammit, the build-up was so *good*. It was! It made me smile, and it
was so *them*, even without the blood and god *dammit* its' not *fair* what
you do to me. Duncan. Methos. *wail*

Mother Mary.

Get the picture?


Where was I? Right, kissing. Kisses without the actual description of the tongues involved have been very well written in erotic fanfic. I shall leave you with descriptions from one of my alltime Spander faves, she's both funny and talented, the fabulous Anna S.

From "A Week of Wrong"
He palmed Spike's neck, rubbed his thumb across the collarbone and then up. When Xander caught his eye again, the vampire was gazing at him like dinner, lips ever so slightly parted. That called for a kiss, tongue even, and as their mouths closed negotiations, something like a light switch snapped on and Xander came to and felt what he was about to do with every shocked, electrified cell of his body. He made a ragged sound and forced Spike's mouth open, finding an angle that made so much sense he finally got it, he got geometry.

From "The One in the Cave"

This is one of the classic Spander plots where they get caught by monsters and the only way to get out of a bad situation is to screw. This moment comes after Xander states humourously
"Just so we're clear: I'd never screw you if the alternative wasn't giant pigs."

A few minutes became a few more and they were still just kissing but it didn't feel like they weren't making progress. Xander felt as if this was the first real conversation he'd had with Spike and every moment that passed he understood more and more. Spike was telling him things, his thoughts; secret thoughts, quiet thoughts, soft thoughts, thoughts that were broken and tangled and difficult to get across, and serious; and Xander talked back and could feel words spilling out the way they did when he was excited, jumbling and tripping back over themselves, and the conversation slipped into that groove where you're both talking over each other, finishing each other's sentences, nodding, yes, yes, because you're both on the same wavelength, and you need to get out this next thought, and another, and get to the end of it, because when you do, the other person will laugh, nodding in recognition, and you'll laugh in relief, being heard. Xander was being heard.