The Pleasures Of The Flesh

Pleasure is the beginning and the end of living happily.

- Epicurus

Pleasure is the only thing to live for. Nothing ages like happiness.

- Oscar Wilde”

We are here to laugh at the odds and live our lives so well that Death will tremble to take us.


- Charles Bukowski

Do you enjoy pleasure or do you deny yourself?

Pleasure gets such a bad rap. The stoics in America want to deny all of us our Seven Deadly Sins. I certainly don't confuse pleasure with happiness, but I don't deny myself pleasure for moral or religious reasons. To do so, in my opinion, is both stupid and totally unnecessary.

My characters Charlotte and Lina in Neighbors are two fine hedonists, and they don't apologize for it. They first appeared in my short story Neighbors, published in Torquere's Vamps anthology. I incorporated them into my short freebie story Filthy Leuker. They will also appear in my upcoming sequel to my best-selling novella Feral Heat.

Charlotte and Lina, however, turned the meal into a bacchanal. Both of them gorged on hors d'oevres. Steamed mussels soaked in their juices. Raw oysters glistened, slick and swollen. The mollusks looked like bowls full of aroused women flashing their tiny pussies at Annie, whispering promises from their puckered lips.

The women asked Annie if she wanted to order some shrimp or some calamari or a slice of pie. Apparently the lemon meringue pie was, to use Charlotte's description, "lethal." She declined. However, that didn't stop them from plying her with a clam here, a mussel there, and several slices of lobster, including one claw.

Charlotte picked up a sliver of lobster, and slid it slowly into Annie's mouth. She inserted her index and middle fingers with the meat, careful not to stab Annie with her long nails. Was this how Charlotte would treat her pussy? Soft and gentle, probing every inch of tender flesh. Fingers moving slowly. In and out. Annie wrapped her tongue around Charlotte's finger and sucked the butter from her skin. Salt tickled her tongue and coated the walls of her mouth. Lina brushed a finger against Annie's cheek, catching a drop of butter before it dribbled down her chin. She lapped the prize from her finger like a kitten nuzzling its mother's milk.

She was quite surprised at her dissolving priggishness. She was also a touch alarmed at how quickly her thighs melted around these two. Her guard was definitely down, and she couldn't decide if that was good or bad. Charlotte and Lina were incredibly difficult to resist. Their mood, which was always up, was infectious. They smelled of sea breezes and that musky sweat that comes only from women. She found herself both aroused and relaxed in their delightful presence.

Both women, especially Charlotte, had taken to punctuating their conversation by touching Annie's hand or brushing their cool fingers against her arms. Lina stroked Annie's hair whenever she had the chance, which over the course of the dinner become increasingly frequent. She preferred to stand a few inches too close to Annie's face. When Lina spoke or breathed, Annie smelled the sweetness of vanilla. Lina liked imported Mexican vanilla in her coffee. The good stuff. Musky, moist, and brown, like her skin. Annie wondered what her mouth tasted like after that first cup in the morning. Probably sweet and warm. What a way to wake up from a good night's sleep.

In the end, Annie relented and ordered a slice of the lemon meringue pie. The sharp smell of citrus shocked her nose. As the cool filling slid over her tongue, she tasted the chilled smoothness of meringue, the tang of lemon, the heavy perfume of beach rose, the crispness of sea grass. Her mouth puckered, and her nostrils flared. She felt her nasal cavities swell in anticipation of the next forkful. Charlotte was right --it was lethal. That had to be the best lemon meringue pie she had ever tasted.

All of her senses had locked in overdrive. Food tasted rich and hearty when she spent her time with lively people, which she had noticed was far too seldom in the past few years. Could be that it was time to do something to change that. She wondered if she could handle it.

Illusion is the first of all pleasures.

~ Oscar Wilde

Pleasure is Nature's test, her sign of approval. When man is happy, he is in harmony with himself and his environment.

~ Oscar Wilde

Gotta love Oscar! I agree that most pleasure, like wealth, is illusion. It's a state of mind. I feel very wealthy and pleasant although I'm not rolling in money. My favorite vices are lust, gluttony, and  sloth. Heh heh. My husband is a gourmet cook and we're always on the lookout for interesting gastromonic delights. Once we have our major bills paid off, I'm buying us Benedictine, a black French winter truffle, and a molcajete for him to use in the kitchen. And none of this need cost much. You just have to know where to look. Like I said, wealth is an illusion. You make yourself feel rich and happy. Everyone has heard of miserable millionaires. Granted, having enough money to pay the bills and not be evicted is a good thing. While I believe wealth is an illusion, poverty is very real. And painful. I don't like pain.

But I do like pleasure.

In America sex is an obsession. In other parts of the world, it is a fact.


~Marlene Dietrich

My characters love pleasure, especially sexual pleasure. The feel of oil massaged into your skin. The warmth of a lover lying atop you. The vibrations from a sex toy in your most sensitive places. Why deny yourself? Those who read erotic romance novels won't deny themselves the carnal pleasures. Even eating can be an erotic act. You read my excerpt from Neighbors. Charlotte and Lina make love to their food.

What are your vices? The sweetness of a succulent peach with juice dripping down your chin? Spice of a decadent liqueur? Sensual dance moves? An erotic massage? Tell me in comments.