Tag Archives: Necrophilia

The First Semiannual Search Terms Review

Raise your hand if you have a blog.  Now keep it in the air if you love to look at the search terms that landed people on said blog.  Wave it back and forth over your head à la that annoying geek in trig class if someone has ever Googled “Smurf Fetish” and ended up on your blog.

My hand is waving like a smoker watching Poison do “Every Rose Has Its Thorn” during a 1988 concert.  Don’t worry if yours is not–I didn’t say Simon Says, anyway.

One of my favorite things to do when checking out my blog stats, is to see what crazy searches resulted in people stopping by my little online hole-in-the-wall.

And speaking of holes in the walls, yes, the phrase “glory hole Coachella” resulted in a visit to my humble site not too long ago.  Oh, to be a fly on that wall.  I bet there were many.

Some of these search terms thrill me to death in a twisted sort of way–such searches as, “Why is necrophilia seen as so wrong?” and “Erotic Horror Stranglings,” for instance.  “Beast necrophilia” and “necrophilia how?” give me a moment of pause, as does “Strangling Woman in boots.”  Just things that make you go hmmm…

And then there are the ones that leave me downright confounded, like “hemero wizard of oz,” and “men anal blow jobs how to give.”  Hemero means day, so is there a national Wizard of Oz Day I’m unaware of?  Not that it’s a bad idea.  I mean, if it comes down to a vote, I say yea.  I’m dying to see a horse of a different color and to try to get a five-finger-discount on a new broom stick.  Incidentally, if anyone out there knows how to give men anal blow jobs, I’d appreciate a diagram just in case I’m missing something.

I’m always looking for new acts to add to my repertoire.

“I love sex” and “cock lust” searches tickle me pink and warm the subcockles of my heart.  And I want to meet the person who Bings “Watch sextraterrestrials porn.”  I think we’d get along just smurfily.  I’ll even bring the popcorn, but also a blanket because I don’t want to sit directly on your couch for our movie night.  Sorry.  It’s not you, it’s me.

Other searches, unfortunately, leave me feeling inadequate.  I mean, when someone looks for “Matthew Bomer Erotica,” and my site doesn’t deliver, I feel like I’m letting my readers down.  Oddly, nearly every piece of erotica I write lately seems to have a guy who looks just like Matthew Bomer, but I’ve never flat-out said so on my blog before.  Weird.

And regarding making most of my studs clones of The Bomer, who can blame me?  He’s delicious.  Anyway, I am now on an intense search for Bomer erotic fan-fiction.  I do this for my followers and, well, let’s just say I feel obligated to hunt some down and preview it multiple times.

When I saw that a gentle reader searched high and low for “How big is Anthony Kiedis‘ penis?” I was heartbroken to know that I had disappointed him or her.  Until I can get Anthony’s digits (and believe me, I will try), might I suggest checking out the old-school sock performance, just to get a rough idea?

And then there was “the twilight saga film series awards” search, to which I politely say, “WTF????”

Finally, I leave you with the question “What movies Vale Kimber star in?”  I can only surmise that someone else surmises I’m a porn star.  Aficionado, maybe.  Fan?  Certainly.  But, the closest I ever came to making a sex movie was contemplating stripping in college.  And possibly some nonconsensual photos during a drunken screw of the same era.  And maybe the security camera that always seemed to be trained outside my dorm room window picked up something I was never mailed a copy of.

I pulled my blinds most of the time, I swear.

But anyway, no.  As much fun as it probably would be to reign as porn queen, I’m afraid I cannot accept this award.  But to all of my fans out there, I say thanks for your support!  I couldn’t be where I am right now without you!

Or maybe I could…

Where the hell am I, anyway?  Hey, who’s that man behind the curtain?!  Please excuse me.  I’m off to go grab his broomstick and possibly give him an anal blow job.


Necrophilia. How can something so wrong feel so right?

That was my catchy title to get your attention.  This post isn’t really about necrophilia.

Or is it?

Actually, I have been remiss in my blogging.  Not only that, but my posts have not been as bizrotic as I originally intended.  So, in an effort to kill two birds with one stone (and then have sex with them before making bird stone soup and feeding it to innocent travelers lost in the woods) I am attempting to illuminate more on the subject of suspenseful writing.

This is meant to help me as well as anyone else who stumbles into this trap I’ve set.  I do occasionally get wordy in my writing.  You see, I love descriptive and emotive writing.  Whenever I come up with a thought-provoking simile or metaphor I get closer to my happy place.  Of course, my editing pal cringes when she hits them.

So, I am trying to tone it down.  And one place where wordiness never works is action/suspense.  It kills it.  In the bad way.

Enough talk.  On to the exercise.  The key point here is that short, concise sentences (or even incomplete sentences) add to the suspense levels.  Long winded crap sucks the action right out of your scene.

First the long-winded business…

The body lay contorted and unnatural on the cobblestone path.  Her arms were up above her head like a ballerina en point, but instead of rod-straight legs, her lower half was alien.  A foot was completely missing on one leg and the other had something like an extra joint between the hip and the knee.  The leg stuck out, arced like the crescent moon that faintly illuminated the scene.

I leaned over the gruesome shape and breathed deeply.  The odor of chloroform assaulted my senses.  But there was another far more sinister scent pervading the body.  The musky smell of dog clung to the dead girl as thickly as the tenacious strings of saliva that dripped from her wounds like mutilated jellyfish.

I looked up in horror as the sound of a low growl rumbled in the still night.  Orange eyes met mine briefly before the wolf leapt through the air.  I watched its snowy underbelly close in on me in slow motion.  I pedaled backward like a crab but the beast was too fast and met its mark.

Air rushed from my lungs like the bellows of an accordion and I felt the beast’s hot breath steam across my cheek.  A runner of drool slid from his yawning maw and slithered down my cheek.

I knew I would share the same fate as the pathetic woman who lay mere feet from me.  Too bad I didn’t get to hit that first. —-There is was, folks.  Just as promised.

Okay, let’s take the last 3 paragraphs and try to tighten them up for better action/suspense pacing.

I looked up.  A low growl rumbled from the beast.  I backpedaled like a crab.

But it was leaping.  Desperate, I pushed myself back.

Too slow.  The wolf collided with my chest.  Air whooshed from my lungs.

Its rancid breath overwhelmed me.

Thick drool slithered down my cheek.

I was a dead man.

————–

So, anyway.  That was the lesson for the day.  My example was crap because I think the first one was better with the mood building/description.  Probably would have worked better with a fighting scene.  Kicking and punching and all that.  POW!  I’ll keep practicing.  Feel free to give it a shot in the comments or to make fun of me.  I’ll look for a good example from a literary master to lay on ya next time.


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