Online porn vs. romance novels: which wins?

In 2008, as many people read an English-language romance novel as visited online porn sites, according to Instapundit.

In 2011, will romance novels win the catfight? With the increase in erotic romances (and I consider Dumpsterotica to be an erotic romance as much as it is erotica) are more people exploring the genre and the "romantica" aspect of erotic writing?

I'll take a stab at a prediction and say that eReaders (free apps and devices included) tipped the scales this year toward the written word.

"Erotica is when you use a feather, porn is when you use the whole chicken."

Erotica is when you use a feather, porn is when you use the whole chicken. -- Isabel Allende

Stop! We Have Cameras!

Lights! Cameras! Dumpster action!

Dumpsterotica Nook Options!

Nook lovers (heh) can find How Dirty Are You? and Talk Dirty to Me on Nook now.

Happy reading!

Sample Sunday! Talk Dirty to Me Excerpt

Book 2 in the Dumpsterotica series is out on Kindle and Nook for just $.99. Here's a nice, long excerpt from Talk Dirty to Me to catch your interest!

If she could have, Marcia would have come that second.

He grabbed her and threw her on the bed.

Then he stripped naked and joined her, his penis a steel rod and her vagina an electromagnet. Labia drew him to her like an oxygen tank getting sucked into an MRI tube, as if –

And then she saw the tampons.

“Son of a bitch!” she said, pawing them off her custom-made pillow. Joe laughed, a wicked, defiant sound that made her pulse quicken, a deep throb forming in her clitoris. Sweeping the pillow and her old tampons aside stirred a scent of rotten steak and she cringed.

“This isn't exactly what I –” and then his mouth was on her, between her long-suffering thighs, tongue lightly dancing on her pulsing red nub, soothing the burn and stirring the fire all at once. She inhaled the scent of garbage, rotten chicken and blood and aloe-scented tissues and limp celery – and began to gag.

On. Off. On. Off. As Joe's tongue worked magic with her labia and clit, licking up and strumming her skin like a guitar, pressing the perfect frets to find the right chord that would activate her inner harmony and crescendo, Marcia vacillated between ecstasy and disgust.

Unlike the dumpster, the garbage on her bed, strewn all over her chenille bedspread whose pinstripes perfectly matched the knobs on her nightstand drawers, repelled her.

Joe, on the other hand, seemed to be really into this, reaching for a banana peel and rubbing it on her hip. No matter how often she turned and writhed and scrambled to get away, he pinned her ass in place and ground the rotten peel into her hipbone, triggering a loathing that quickly overcame any arousal he generated with his skilled tongue.

Off finally won out and she said, “What on earth are you doing with that banana peel?”

Confusion clouded his face as he frowned. “It seemed to excite you when we were in the dumpster, so I...”

A lead ball of dread filled her stomach. “It did?”

He raised his eyebrows. “You don't remember?”

“No.”

For the first time since he'd found her in the bathroom he laughed, a rich, true laugh of mellow and joy. Joe's laugh. “Ah, well, I do.” He crawled up her belly and leaned into her, pressing himself against her, the smattering of chest hair sliding up her public bone, over her navel, stretching on the ribs and arching her nipples into twin peaks.

When he kissed her she tasted herself and smiled through the kiss, desire blooming again, chasing away the lead weight of doom in her gut.

“So – a banana peel? Really?” she asked, laughing, her hand reaching for his stiff cock.

He sucked in half the air in the room. “Yes.”

As much as she wanted to blow him, to take him into her warm, wet mouth and to run her tongue over him, make him grow inside her until she made her mouth more enticing than any vagina, she knew if she did this would end quickly.

Instead, she used her hands to roam over his ass and hips, sliding up his back and over his shoulders, hoping that this time having him inside her would do the trick for them both.

Taking command, Marcia climbed on top and plunged him inside her. The wave started and she felt the tingling in her knees, shooting up like a line of kerosene set afire, a straight shot to her pussy. A cherry bomb of heat opened her wider, made her ride him harder until she was pogosticking him.

His face changed as Marcia watched, roaming her hands over his pecs, settling on his shoulders to catch a better angle and bracing against him. The pounding triggered a wave of pleasure in her and she felt unleashed, ready to lose all walls and boundaries and to become one with Joe, one with everything, even her vagina-smeared Etsy pillow.

“Talk dirty to me,” she whispered. They'd tried it, once, on their honeymoon, and Marcia had been too embarrassed to ask again.

“Uh, OK,” Joe replied, his voice carrying a note of surprise and playfulness. He paused, then said, “Rotten tomatoes. Old coffee grounds. Ooo – three-day-old shrimp in garlic sauce...”

Marcia sat all the way up and punched him in the solar plexus as hard as she could. He arched, hard, upward into her, as much a Newtonian reaction as a remnant of pleasure. And then his erection closed in on itself, his cock sliding out of her like a wet, buttered noodle.

Dumpsterotica featured on Kindleboards banner tomorrow!

Are you a Kindleboards member? Readers and writers who use Kindle congregate at "KB" to share tips on good books, free books, the ins and outs of publishing (for writers), outstanding genre favorites (for readers), and so much more.

My Dumpsterotica series will be featured in the leaderboard banner tomorrow, July 16, with an animated banner designed by Streetlight Graphics, the same company that designed the covers for How Dirty Are You? and Talk Dirty to Me.

Check it out tomorrow and let me know what you think!

Tucker Max and Butt Secks. It's All Dirty.

How in the hell have I NOT heard of Tucker Max? Now I need to go spend more money on books and read his, huh? Damn it. As if I don't have an absolutely enormous TBR queue in my hacked Kindle app for Ubuntu.

You will never, ever think of ass sex (if you think about anal at all -- and come on, everyone does at least once. Think about it, I mean) the same way again after this. Makes me think of the infamous scene from the first episode of Californication. You know -- the painting Hank pukes on?

Now I'm wondering if Tucker ever had sex in a dumpster.

FREE copy of Talk Dirty to Me -- learn how to get yours!

I'm running a promotion right now -- the second book in the Dumpsterotica erotic comedy series is going live this Saturday. More than four times the length of How Dirty Are You?, the next installment, Talk Dirty to Me, looks at how Joe and Marcia handle her...sensual, robust power that seems to put the "ick" in erotica.

Description for the upcoming Dumpsterotica: Talk Dirty to Me:

When Joe walks in on his wife, Marcia, in the bathroom using health and beauty supplies as sex toys, he's furious to learn she's been taking matters into her own hands nine times a week -- while sleeping with him only once a month. Marcia, horrified to be discovered, breaks down and fears he'll leave her. Her answer? Marriage counseling.

Dr. Jude Fourier has an opening that night for couples counseling, but Joe and Marcia discover that Fourier has some fetishes of his own. A Mr. Clean lookalike with a Hannibal Lecter demeanor, it turns out Dr. Fourier and Marcia met a few years ago, under extraordinary circumstances that Marcia would just as soon forget...but that Dr. Fourier immortalizes in a shrine that makes the Marquis de Sade look like a wimp.

By the end of the evening Marcia's sexual frustration reaches supernova proportions -- and the shock waves will take you for a wild ride as she lets her freak flag fly. Dumpsterotica: Talk Dirty to Me, is 16,000 rollicking words of arousing fun.

So here's the promotion to get your FREE copy of Talk Dirty to Me:

1. Buy Dumpsterotica: How Dirty Are You?, the first in the series.
2. Write a review on Amazon for the short story.
3. Send me an email at dumpsterotica@gmail.com telling me your Amazon username and your email address so I can send you a gifted, FREE copy of the new eBook, Talk Dirty to Me. I'll send all free eBooks out after July 20.

That's it! Happy reading, and thanks!

Night Owl Reviews Author Page for Me!

So I have an author page now at Night Owl Reviews and will be guest blogging in October. Night Owl Erotica is a very well-organized site for both readers and authors. Excellent paid and free promotion option, a thick archive of reviews and plenty of new-release coverage, and the site's relatively easy to navigate. Check it out.

An Excerpt from Talk Dirty to Me -- Next in the Dumpsterotica Series

I'm about to publish the second in the erotic comedy series, Dumpsterotica: Talk Dirty to Me. Here's a nice excerpt from the book:

Here was his lawfully-wedded wife, prostrate before him with her knees in two aluminum chafing dishes once filled with what looked like baked ziti, dishing up a blow job and a teabagging, and something that Urban Dictionary had not yet invented a word for – but it needed one, stat. Lubed up hands covered in the restaurant's signature tomato sauce made their way across his tight ass muscles while her lips and tongue nipped and laved and wandered over terrain he thought only his hand and some Clairol Herbal Essences hair conditioner would ever know.

She stopped and he choked, a begging grunt caught in his throat, the need a sob.

“My turn,” she said with a grin that glittered, brighter than the pearls around her neck, part of a set he'd given her for her 25th birthday. How he wished to give her a very different pearl necklace right now, but he could wait and do that a different time. Right now he needed to make her scream a holy climax that St. Peter and Lucifer would hear at once, that would make both sigh with anticipation of a new body at their respective gates, a scream that Hades would admire and bottle and sell on eBay as elixir for the Gods on Mount Olympus. And gouge them on shipping and handling charges.