Tag Archives: erotica

Thoughts on lesbian erotica

The Harder She ComesW got me a book of lesbian erotica for Christmas.

The Harder She Comes: Butch/Femme Erotica.

Now, I’m not a huge reader of erotica of any kind.  I’d much rather tuck into my own imagination instead of a book when I want to get turned on.

I’m definitely a less-is-more kind of girl.  Sometimes a slight sliver of skin is sexier than, well, the full monty.

Case in point: Last night, I was casually browsing for lesbian content on WordPress.  Paging through pictures of rainbow flags, Jodie Foster, studs, bois, butches, femmes.  And there it was.  It looked angry and shocked.  All pink and exposed.  I thought it might be useful for teaching the finer points of  female genitalia to novice gynecologists but certainly not for turning on this lesbian.

I chalked it up to a lesbian post for guys and not for actual lesbians.  It’s never very hard to tell the two apart.

Random thoughts on erotica:

  • Erotica is very personal.  What might float this butch’s boat, might not float yours.  So, an anthology containing 20 or so stories might only have two or three that get my motor running.
  • I'd rather read books by this woman than books about naked women.

    I’d rather read books by this woman than books about naked women.

    It’s not always the most well-written prose on the market.  If I have to choose between Joyce Carol Oates‘ newest novel and Lesbian Samurai Zombies (real title), well, Oates will win out just about every time.  I often think that I could write lesbian erotica  that’s just as good as, if not better than, what’s currently available.  Maybe I’ll give that a shot this year.  I’ll need to start working on a  pseudonym pronto.

  • I can only remember one erotic story from over the years.  It didn’t even involve any actual sex.  Just some sexual tension. But it had a great ending image involving a woman clad in a pair of tall black leather boots.  (This butch has a thing for women in high leather boots.)

Anyway, The Harder She Comes is pretty good as far as lesbian erotica goes.  I find the whole butch/femme dynamic fascinating.

I’ve found myself evolving over the years from tomboy to lesbian to soft butch to butch.  I’m thinking that this year I might want to butch up a little more.

I’ll no doubt blog more about my quest to become a butchier butch, but I thought I would plant the seed in this post.


It does get better — and easier to buy lesbian erotica

With National Coming Out Day hitting last week, I read a lot of blogs that talked about coming out and found it interesting that a lot of bloggers chose to end their blog postings with comments about how it gets better.

Even Middle Age Butch commented In Celebration of National Coming Out Day “that it does get better and easier.”

With that said, I thought I’d explore some of the ways that things have gotten better for this butch lesbian since coming out a decade or so ago.

ONE.  I can carry around a copy of the Philadelphia Gay News in public without shame.  I knew that I was becoming more comfortable with being out when a gentleman approached me in Borders, pointed to the newspaper that I was carrying and asked where he could get a copy.  I didn’t blush or stammer and eloquently directed him to the upstairs news rack.

TWO.  I can buy lesbian erotica from a bookstore without turning 50 shades of red.  I remember buying a lesbian erotica book in the early days of my coming out.  Another “research project” for this fresh-out-of-the-closet butch.  I’m not sure who was more embarrassed, me or the female bookstore clerk.  I had wedged the erotica in between a stack of unassuming books in an attempt to camouflage it.  The Canterbury Tales, Best Butch Femme Erotica, Little Women, The Essential Wok Cookbook.  The clerk wasn’t falling for my well-planned ruse.  She took one look at the canoodling women on the front cover of the erotica book and turned as red as the freshly spanked ass on page 73.  Which, in turn, made me blush.  I think I threw a couple of twenties at her and ran for the door.  Or at least that’s what I wanted to do.

I like that I have enough swagger and confidence these days to buy an erotica book without turning  colors like a lesbian chameleon, losing consciousness or  pretending that the book is for my pretend lesbian friend, Ronnie.  “Oh, she’s such a raging lesbian.  Big, strapping bull dyke of a girl.  She is really going to love this.”

THREE.  I’m not fazed when someone mistakenly refers to me as “sir.”  I usually just deepen my voice and go with it, unless the person realizes his or her mistake and begins to apologize profusely.  “Not a problem,” I’ll say and mean it.  I used to look over my shoulder and wonder who the rude guy was who was ignoring someone’s question.

I could have been just like Sandy West of The Runaways

FOUR.  I can do what I want these days without stereotypical gender restrictions.  For example, my mother never let me take drum lessons when I was a kid because, apparently, drums are for boys.  These days, I can pay for my own lessons and become a rock star in a kick-ass all-girl rock band.  Except that I’m 45 and way too old for late-night gigs and really loud music and being on the road for prolonged periods of time.  But I totally could if I wanted to.

FIVE.  I pay for my own clothes these days, so I can shop in the men’s department for all of my apparel needs.  I can buy and wear ties and pinstripes and sleeveless T-shirts and suspenders.  Whatever floats this butch’s boat.

So, it does get better.  A lot better.  It’s all about liking the skin that you’re in.  With that comes confidence and on the really good days a little bit of swagger, especially when I’m wearing a necktie or maybe a really thick leather wrist cuff.  On those days, I’m a rock star, even though I never learned how to play the drums.