He Wants Me
Naked When I Fling The Front Door Open: Joan
Price's "Ageless Erotica"
by Roz Warren
If you want a
glimpse into the erotic imaginations of sex
writers who‘ve been around the block a few
times, pick up a copy of “Ageless
Erotica” a new collection of sex
writing by, for and about seniors.
Joan Price, 69,
is on a mission to “talk out loud about
senior sex.” She gives lectures. She holds
workshops. And she writes books.
“Better than I Ever Expected: Straight Talk
about Sex After Sixty“ was followed by
“Naked At Our Age: Talking Out Loud About
Senior Sex.” And now there‘s
“Ageless Erotica,” described as a
“steamy assortment of erotic stories and
memoir essays written for a mature audience.”
The book
collects tales of seniors from all walks of life,
gay and straight, vanilla and kinky, taking
their clothes off and having fun. I’ve
never found erotica much of a turn-on, but I
still got a kick out of reading it. I even
learned a few things. (Masturbation clubs
for women? Who knew?)
The stories
are a fascinating mix of the sensual, the medical
and the humorous. The writing itself is all over
the place. Laughingly abysmal. Unabashedly smutty.
And, often, oddly moving.
Here’s a
sampling of my favorite lines:
“My yoni
was a ravenous hollow.”
“In a
flash, he was butt-naked except for his socks.”
“I came
in places I didn’t know I had.”
“My first
blue cock. Would anything else on earth ever feel
so good?”
“I played
his instrument with my mouth as if it were a
flute.”
“You are
amazingly well constructed,” he said.
“There’s evidence of too much sun on
exposed areas, leaving a coarseness to the skin,
but,” he added, stroking my ass, “the
hidden parts are the silkiest I’ve ever felt.”
“Lifting
her breasts away from her chest, he kissed his
way down, until he found her sparse, gray pubic
hair.”
“A
lifetime of hard work let me afford trendy
cashmere sweaters.”
“You have
such beautiful, manly nipples, sweetheart.”
“I
skipped teasing him with the knitted glove and
went straight to the surgical one -- in my actual
size.”
“Filthy
incoherence is always a positive sign at that
point in our lovemaking.”
“He wants
me naked when I fling the front door open.”
“It’s
my boyish charm, as I’m told, that hangs
around, unlike my hair.”
“I’ve
included the inevitable butt plug.”
“A heavy
date requires a slow day beforehand and a
preparatory nap.”
“Off to
the bedroom?” I asked with a wink.
“I clutch
the sheets and yell, “Fuck, oh fuck, yes,
yes, yes, do me, oh do me, thank you Sir, oh fuck,
fuck, yes, yes, yes!”
“We were
naked before we even washed our vibrators.”
“I
couldn’t remember if I had shaved the gray
hairs from my lollipop just in case it was going
to get licked.”
“Barry
took my legs and spread them like a wishbone.”
“Tom
Maynard, you’re as hard as a prize salami!”
“You can
thank my hormone supplements. They do wonders for
this kind of thing.”
His first
question when we met was, “do you know how
to gut a deer?”
He says,
“I’m prepared,” code for the
Levitra pill he took a half hour ago.”
“My heart
resumed a normal rhythm, all fears of another
infarction vanished.”
His tongue
slid around my clit, which I’ve named Ethel,
and over it, and too soon, I flooded with warmth.
Intrigued? No
need to visit sex sites like “Adam and
Eve” or “Smitten Kitten” to get
your copy. (Not that there’s anything
wrong with that.) You can find “Ageless
Erotica” at your local indy bookstore.
If it’s
not in stock, just give the salesperson a
lascivious wink and ask him to order it for you.
And Ethel.
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