WHAT IS EROGRAPHY?

It's what the name implies: GRAPHY (writing or pictures) about EROS (love or sex). It's the artistic depiction of sex in one medium or another.

It's opposed to what we typically have in this culture, which is PORNOGRAPHY. That word comes from the Greek word for whore, and is pictures of or writing about whores. We live in a civilization that really doesn't know what Erography is because there isn't much around, though it has a long and distinguished history.

Erography has occupied a prominent and honored place in some of the oldest and most brilliant civilizations we know of. In Greece, erographic pictures and murals decorated important public buildings. Erographic literature was widely presented and enjoyed in the highest levels of culture. In India, erographic sculptures and paintings adorned even the religious temples.

Erography has always been associated with beauty, grace, health, affection, love, and aesthetics. Only the most beautiful bodies and the most beautiful settings were considered appropriate for erography. It was about love and happiness: nice times and how to have them. There were no snickers and sneers, as there was too much respect for sex to turn it into a dirty joke.

Pornography is much different. It has associations with degradedness, perversion, crime, dishonesty, malformed bodies, cruelty, and unnatural appetites and desires. It is hidden and shameful rather than open and loving.

Pornography is pictures of whoring- of cocks and cunts and whores and ugly bodies and unhappy, unhealthy people who take their clothes off with either disinterested indifference or dirty-joke smiles. They pile on, grunt and groan, and roll off.

It's disgusting.

Is that what people are really looking for?

Is that what they do then they are alone in their rooms? Is that their idea of a good time? Is pornography where they learn how to make love and to do sex?

If so, I pity them. I'm tired of seeing the insides of cheap dirty apartments and third-rate whores in sex movies. What happened to outdoors, and nice houses in the country? What happened to really beautiful women? Can't anyone get a budget for sex? Can't anyone afford a good writer? Doesn't anyone know the difference between pornography and erography?

What ever happened to boy-meets-girl sex?

They go dancing and she feels a hard lump pressing her crotch as she kisses him. He feels breasts and nipples pressing into him as she puts her hand into his pants, her tongue in his ear, and her thoughts in his head.

She takes him home to bed. Candied corners flicker the tapestries walls and incense burns the air cinnamon-rich. She drops her clothes and nakedly smiles him a quiet welcome. Her eyelashes quiver in "Now-I've-got-you uncertainty.

He smiles, kisses her nose, and weighs her breasts in his palms. The record player surfs their ears in roaring waves of forgetting noise as she skins off his clothes and he kisses her onto her back in the cool meadows of scented sheets. When her hand touches his prick her stomach tightens in fear and her breath stops and she wants it inside her.

Slowly, he teases her hard knot of muscle with tasty tongue, soft sighs, melting moans, and quiet questions. Shivers giggle and breath races. When she's wet and relaxed and ready for him, she sucks him iron hard. She lays her knees on her breasts and he slides all the way in for her to gasp on to.

Eyes are important. Eyes are big and close and open.
Eyes look back at you and say "Thank you for you."

Slowly he works in and out, warming and opening her. She moans and creams and prays to God and Jesus and nibbles his ear and opens up inside and lets his cock all the way through her cunt into her womb and screams and comes and crushes him in her arms and legs and thrashes against him, shuddering each time he strokes through into the magic world on the other side of the whole, begging him not to stop.

No beat-me-kill-me-hurt-me-make-the-blood-run-make-me-come, just sweat- slippery skins and muscles going into shuddering spasms no one tries to stop. Do it faster. Do it harder. Give me more. Come inside me. I'm happy. You're happy. We're happy. Am I ready? You're ready. Are you ready? I'm ready. Are we ready? We're ready. Let's do it. Let's come together and feel the quietly dissolving electric-acid spasms of explosions melting in the same places and washing through the no-distance in the kNOw-time that hangs forever between US.

It gets faster and faster till she comes with every prick and her breath is uncontrollable spasms from her cunt triggered by every new thrust through her cervix. Her sobs are machine-gun ya-ya ear piercing shrieks threading his mind with yes-and-kNOw pain.

Moiré patterns of electric sensation radiate through her body at the speed of come and reflect themselves into his body through her eyes, her skin, her mouth, and her pussy.

His ya-ya chalkboard-screech screams are as sawcut rapid and razor sharp as hers while they cream through each other's mind the Sunday-quiet note of "I love you all the way through."

In the center of the circle of screaming motion, pressure built to pain, and bleeding electric sear is a quiet liquid place that lasts forever in the back of your mind. When you're really alive, that's where you live.

The seems rip noiselessly with infinite tender pain across the silk curtain that keeps out reality and all the lies drain out like an emptying tide pool.

There's nothing left but I'm me and You're you and I see You and You see Me and reality is us now and truth lasts forever with compete understanding of pain and joy and then it's over as fast as you can remember it took forever and couldn't happen and never exists in this universe.

And then there's a long time of noisy quiet listening to breaths racing down together to normal and feeling slimy wet warmth sucking against itself and after- spurts and squeezes and You're You, and They're Them and you're looking at each Other across the gulf between the eyes and you're back to being your SELF.

But a little piece of something bigger lingers.

You know it.  They know it.   And it's nicer that way.

As the days go on, it gets quieter and softer and words get less necessary and more meaningful, but easier to say.

It goes through balling during lunch hour, blow jobs in the car, and quick kiss-n-feels in elevators.

It has to do with clean sheets and summer mornings with the sun kissing you and a cock so far up you it would take forever to pull it out.

It has to do with babies and being born and watching old people die.

It has to do with who you are and being in the universe all alone with other people not to talk to.

It has to do with where you go when you take a trip off into your mind .......
and who you take with you if you can.

WHAT EVER HAPPENED TO EROGRAPHY?

I don't like pornography. It's ugly and Im tired of it?

A beautiful lady I loved once invited me to make movies with her about how it could be .......
but we never did.

Neither did anyone else.

What ever happened to Erography?

LET'S BRING IT BACK!

[Written in late 1970's]