E-Book Review 18: Emma Styles – Distracted

E-Book Review 18: Emma Styles – Distracted

Sum it up, Cheeky: Emma’s back with lots more squirting, gushing and swallowing – this time, in Spain!

Review it, you dirty bitch: Emma Styles’ first rampantly filthy memoir (First Tango in Paris, reviewed here) was an orgasmic success on both sides of the Atlantic, rocketing her to the top of the erotica charts on Amazon for several weeks. She’s been promising a kind of follow-up, but while we wait for that, she’s released this short appetiser detailing her various sexual encounters in Spain that she enjoyed while trying to write the sequel.

Fans of her first book will not be disappointed because essentially it’s more of the same. Emma’s delightfully insatiable appetite for sex and fearless pursuit of carnal pleasure make for a typically easy and fun romp of a read as she samples the local cuisine, the local wine and, naturally, the local men and women. There are fabulously naughty scenes on a nudist beach, a poolside party that gets completely out of control and, to top it off, a raucously decadent orgy in which Emma and her friend Antonia are furiously feasted upon by a ravenous gaggle of well-hung studs.

Emma’s life seems rather like how it might feel to live in a porno movie. Almost everyone is up for some fun, although here everyone is also incredibly polite and well-behaved. It’s a kind of sexual utopia: very free love, perhaps, but less hippyish. Emma herself, you’ll be pleased to know, is still a prodigious gusher at even the slightest of hint of stimulation, while all her male counterparts, even the old ones who she jacks off in the shady areas of the nudist beach, never fail to shoot torrents of spunk into the air after a few minutes of attention from her tongue or expert fingers. The only surprise is that we haven’t yet heard of Emma fucking the plumber.

Can all this really be true? Are there really people who live this kind of sexually deviant (I use the word in the nicest, spiciest possible way, of course) and decadent lives, with time taken up by sex, alcohol, poppers and a bit of writing when there’s time? Are orgies this commonplace? It seems so – but in fact it doesn’t really matter – just imagining that this is all true is fun enough.

It’s difficult to sum Emma’s work up succinctly. It’s a struggle to call it ‘erotica’, as such, because her descriptions of sex are delivered in such a matter-of-fact way – possibly because for Emma, incredible group sex or fucking a kindly, horny, rich, suave gent, aren’t the once-in-a-lifetime events they might be for most of the rest of us. That doesn’t mean reading about her adventures isn’t hot, because it is, but Emma’s aim is not to build a scene, to create an erotic spectacle full of flowery language and eager suspense, with a climactic release at the end. She’s just telling us about her real life sex life. And in that sense, she’s found a rather lovely niche amidst all the 50 Shades copycats.

This is a short set of encounters in comparison with the first book – you could probably enjoy the whole thing on a train journey of a decent length – and while it is very similar to the first book, Emma’s style has been tightened and the editing seems to be a bit more stringent, which is welcome. There is perhaps still a touch too much on what kind of food and drink she’s enjoying from one day to the next, but it’s certainly been reined in from the first book. And if you liked the frank descriptions of debauchery from First Tango, you’ll love the naughty stories contained here. Pure, wonderful, matter-of-fact filth.

Rate it, babycakes: Four out of Five Stars.
Read my Inappropriately Personal Interview with Emma here
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E-Book Review 17: Sylvia Lowry – April in Paris

E-Book Review 17: Sylvia Lowry – April in Paris: The Erotic Adventures of April Jones, Volume 1

Sum it up, Hot Lips: Aspiring young author of erotica gets fucked – and fucked over – in France’s lust-filled capital.

Review it, you horny fox: An enjoyable romp of a novelette, set in 1950s Paris and groaning under the weight of several vividly described hot and wet encounters involving our titular, and most welcoming, heroine, April Jones.

Ms Jones is a young American writer hoping to get her filthy stories published. The idea of an erotic writer writing an erotic story about her own erotic adventures as she tries to get her erotic writings out to the erotica-thirsty public is a clever device that immediately and economically establishes April as a wonderfully carnal creature with a rampant sexuality.

The first chapter jumps in quickly after some perhaps slightly verbose descriptions of Paris, as April seduces a male publisher who needs little encouragement in showing this uninhibited American how the French make love. However, he is also so impressed with her literary efforts that he makes off with them while April is still enjoying her post-coital glow.

The rest of the story involves April putting together the pieces of why he would do such a thing, and discovering who is involved in what turns out to be something of a conspiracy. She mainly does this by, well, fucking people. It’s an unorthodox way to play detective, but also, it turns out, pretty effective. Perhaps Columbo should try it some time. I won’t reveal exactly what she discovers so as not to spoil the story, but this never less than diverting tale certainly left me wanting to know what Ms Jones might get up to, and with whom, in Rio, which appears to be the destination for Volume 2.

And so to the important bit: the sex. Is it hot? I mean, we all love a good yarn to accompany our literary porn, but the important thing is that these things do the job they are supposed to do and give us that special hard or wet feeling. The short answer is yes, it is hot. Sylvia doesn’t hold back and I particularly enjoyed the scene of April becoming a voyeur as Romanian Goddess Adrianna has some fun with her Albanian stallion, Dmitri.

Sylvia’s mixing of a lofty, refined style (complete with a vocabulary that I twice needed the Kindle dictionary to help me out with) with flamboyant dirtiness makes for an extremely pleasing juxtaposition. She might use some flowery language to describe a work of art or a Paris street, but in the next paragraph there’ll be a wonderfully earthy, sexy turn of phrase that forces you to start rabidly fantasising about the person sitting opposite you on the train.

Here’s a good example of that classical style mixed with some lovely, filthy language:

‘Having anointed me in its delicious essence, his spunk cascaded down towards my snatch, descending victoriously onto the chaise below as I idly fingered the viscous flow.’

Or this, which is almost bizarre in its imagery, but similarly delightful:

‘… his colossal load erupted first briefly on my thighs and then on the face of an innocent stone carving of an angel. The descending, sticky white cascade looked exquisitely like marble tears.’

As much as I love those descriptions, they do highlight a small point that bothered me a little about Sylvia’s writing. It is extremely difficult, I think, to continually come up with new ways to describe a sex scene, to find new and interesting adjectives and verbs and adverbs for similar acts. And we all have our favourite words that we use, unconsciously, more than we should when writing erotica. There are forgivable similarities in those two quotes, but Sylvia does have a few words that appear so often that they begin to jar: the word ‘capricious’, or derivations of it, is there far too regularly; and April frequently flashes an ‘impish smile’ – not as frequently as she has spunk on her face, to be fair, but a bit too frequently nonetheless.

These are perhaps dull things to critique, but the fact that these technical points are my biggest criticisms of this story should indicate how much I enjoyed it overall. I’ll be reading April’s next adventure – and hoping that Sylvia allows her to be suitably emboldened by her Paris experiences to push a few boundaries once she gets to south America. As Darren Aronofsky said of Natalie Portman in Black Swan – I want to see her scandalise April…

Rate it, sticky fingers: Four out of Five Stars.
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