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Erotic Muse: Sonnets About Sex

by John Boase

630 pages; quality trade paperback (softcover); catalogue #01-0477; ISBN 1-55369-075-3; US$37.00, C$52.00, EUR33.80, £23.50

Erotic Muse presents nearly 1200 superbly-crafted sonnets about sex, many written from a female perspective, written primarily but not exclusively for women. They are written in everyday language, ideal for reading aloud.

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about the book      about the author      excerpts      catalogue info

About the Book THERE IS NOTHING SEXIER THAN READING A SONNET TO YOUR LOVER, OR HAVING A SONNET READ TO YOU. Erotic Muse presents nearly 1200 superbly crafted sonnets about sex, many written from a female perspective, written primarily but not exclusively for women. They are written in everyday language, ideal for reading aloud. The sonnets celebrate the wonderful diversity of human sexual experience: flirtation, romance; earthy and robust enjoyment; kinks, foibles and and secret desires. Whimsy, raunch, fantasy, fetish, social comment, reflection, satire, nostalgia, realism, humor, indiscretion... You'll find them all in John's sonnets. Sonnets about... A human treasure hunt ('An orange jelly snake beneath each breast') Her first attempt to put a condom on a lover ('You put it on'. He handed it to me') Fun in the bath tub ('A raft of scented suds, the tub abrim') Sex at the dinner table ('You mentioned sweets, I thought we'd improvise') Taking a dare ('I've come in public, looking nonchalant') Recalling a sexual disaster ('He writhed about, he cupped them in his hand') Lusting for the man at the next table ('I'll start by ripping off that gray silk shirt') Looking down the plumber's shorts ('The sexy bugger wore no underwear') Feeling randy ('A week - A WEEK! - it's been since I got laid') Pressing back against an anonymous man in a bar ('I see no need my instincts to restrain') Losing it ('My foot got cramp, my ass stuck to the seat') Discovering the truth about one's late mother ('Three hundred letters from a woman friend') Sex in public ('There could be someone watching us'. 'So what?') Checking out a man in a swim suit ('A bulging pouch no woman could ignore') Watching a naked man bathing in a stream ('His sculpted legs set fantasy ablaze') The importance of foreplay ('Skilled antecedents, patient, tender touch') A husband returning home unexpectedly ('Oh god, it's Bill!!! Quick, get your clothes and leave!') 'Dear Dotty' sonnets on personal problems ('My husband and our neighbor want to swap') Game in a darkened room ('I'd have you naked, wearing French perfume') Reflections on men ('So many frogs... so rare the handsome prince') Marvelling at a woman's stockinged legs ('I stare as long as decency permits') Sample titles: Coming to Terms with the Sex Drive; Tit and Clit Compare Notes; The Magic Glow ('I'd like to know just where she went for lunch'); Six Women Relate Their Favorite Fantasy; Anal Play; Doggy Style; Nude Ascending Staircase; To My Clitoris; Is Size Important?; Little Black Book; Gay Abandon; No Frills; On Receiving a Pair of Your Panties through the Post; Face Sit; Perfume in the Elevator; Right for the Night; Vasectomy; Foot Fetish; A Very Delicate Subject; Ovum's Lament ('So few of us are destined for careers'); The Biggest Cock I've Seen; Showoff; European Men; When Woman Comes; Erection (his viewpoint); Erection (her viewpoint); A Clit's Complaint ('Hereafter I'm on strike, the bitch can fake'); Butterfly Kiss; Little Black Book; Rough Stuff; Reflections of a Condom ('The long and dark and lonely wait in foil'); Party Time; What My Girlfriend Saw; Naughty Boy; Blind Date; My Big Turn-Off; Disinclined Dominatrix; 'Fuck Me' Shoes; Black Tie Sex; The Joys of a Gentle Wank; A Fortunate Laugh; Taking a Dare; Middle Age Frolic ('You should be slowing down at fifty-eight'); Jogger; At Night on the Lake; An Amazing Technique; Quickie; Tasting Notes; When Mum found the Lubricant... and hundreds more. John includes 17 sonnets that offer irreverent interpretations of famous works of art. You will find out why the Mona Lisa smiles; share David's dismay at having such a little penis; get the real story behind the nude picnic in Dejeuner sur l'Herbe; hear Adam and Eve complain bitterly about God's policy of zero tolerance; get from Priapus an explanation as to why he has his penis on a set of scales; and hear the couple in American Gothic confess to an unspeakable act. You will also love John's sensitive interpretations of The Kiss by Rodin and Femme qui marche by Giacometti. John has included 20 sonnet narratives, akin to a short story but told in sequential sonnet form. Carnevale tells of an affair during the annual festivities in Venice. If you've been to Venice, you will relish John's lovely imagery. If you haven't been to Venice, you will want to go! In Chateau three women spirit away three virile, handsome young men for a weekend of debauchery at a country estate. The women dictate the terms. Chateau is hot! In My Neighbor, two married women discover their love for each other and do something about it. A Memorable Afternoon details a passionate encounter. In Threesome, a husband and wife get to fulfil a long-cherished fantasy. In My First Woman, a woman knows another woman for the first time. In Paris, a man and woman discover again the joys of romantic love. In The Artist, a young woman attends a weekend art workshop and stays on, becoming the artist's lover and enjoying his bohemian lifestyle. You will adore the eccentric people who visit the farm and the unconventional things they do: 'We came as one, his timing was superb, A face!!! I shrieked! 'Whoops, sorry to disturb' Erotic Muse is a unique collection, celebrating sex and sexuality in the world of real people. John's women are confident, frank and assertive. They enjoy being female.

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About the Author John Boase lives in Sydney, Australia. He was born in June, 1943 and spent 34 years in professional life before retiring and taking up writing. He has a Bachelor's degree from The University of Sydney and a Master's Degree from The University of New South Wales. He is married, with three children and three grandchildren. His main interest outside writing is travel. His favorite country is France, his favorite places Paris and Venice. He loves his wine. Contact John at ecrivain@ihug.com.au

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Excerpts

A Genuine Romantic
by John Boase
© 2000
He compliments my choice of clothes and shoe,
He always comments when I change my hair;
He takes an interest in the things I do,
He opens doors for me, adjusts my chair.
He gives me sexy undies, knows my size,
Bouquets of flowers turn up at work, at home;
Romantic weekend trips are a surprise,
His eyes when we're together never roam.
To art shows, concerts, cinema we go,
He knows his art and music, is well-read;
No episodes of boring male ego,
He's thoughtful, skilled and passionate in bed.
A man like this one never could forget,
The problem is I haven't met him yet

A Close Shave
by John Boase
© 2000
I shaved my lover's belly recently,
He'd done it once to me, now came my fun;
Reminded, he agreed reluctantly,
He cast his clothes off, stretched out in the sun.
The sparser hair above came off apace,
The lower, bushy bit made progress slow;
Raw apprehension, panic in his face,
As scissors first, then razor worked below.
His balls he first refused to let me shave,
Perhaps the symbolism was too strong!
I calmed him down and urged him to be brave,
Went very slow his terror to prolong.
A wash and wipe, then I could contemplate
His nether parts in smooth and pristine state.

Waltz
by John Boase
© 1998
'I'd love this dance. May I?' You smiled assent,
And sent my heart a-flutter as you did;
I offered you my arm, the perfect gent,
Excited, dizzy, like a smitten kid.
Your eyes were sparkling and your smile was sweet,
You were as skilled a dancer as I'd known;
Superbly stylish, graceful on your feet,
It was as though we made that waltz our own.
We danced the night away vivaciously,
Exuberant, as if we were possessed;
The last dance slowed, I drew you close to me,
And felt the pressure of your lovely breast.
Then came our private dance of love instead,
To ardent sensual rhythms in your bed.

Blissing Out
by John Boase
© 1999
I'll run away to Tuscany and paint,
Get off the treadmill, leave behind the stress;
My juices need to flow without constraint,
What joy, in art one's feelings to express!
A farm house, tucked behind a rolling hill,
Lush grass, a stream that ripples placidly;
A tranquil olive grove, an ancient mill,
A sense of timelessness, of history.
Dear god the freedom, being on one's own
With landscape, easel, palette, paint and brush!
In life such solitude I've never known,
It's all been helter-skelter, mindless rush.
At night an open fire, Chianti wine,
And if I wish to share, the choice is mine.

Waiting for the Paper Boy
by John Boase
© 2000
'Good morning, Ellen. What a lovely day!'
(How fortunate that you don't have a bra!)
'The kids both well? Is Richard still away?'
(Your nipples are superb, they really are!)
'The roses look like being good this year'.
(If I'm in luck I'll see your silhouette!)
'You're right, the weather's not been too severe'.
(You haven't any knickers on, I'll bet!)
'Your picnic day sounds great. We've nothing planned'.
(That's it!!! The sun behind, your legs apart!!!)
'You only have to ask. We'll lend a hand'.
(A hand around each breast would be a start!)
'Ah, here he comes. Good fellow, right on time'.
(Another viewing interlude sublime!)

Split Second Decision
by John Boase
©2002
Oh god, the stripper's coming over here!
My friends don't help, they fall about in glee;
I try to look composed, I sip my beer...
A naked man is standing next to me!
My face is burning with embarrassment,
The others make suggestions blunt and crude;
'We won't tell Jim!' 'Do something you'll repent!'
'Take hold of him!' 'Do something really rude!'
He flaunts his butt, it's gorgeous I'll admit,
He has a dancer's ass, smooth, muscled hard;
Oh what the hell, I run my hands on it,
'Go girl!' My inhibitions I discard.
To claps and whistles, stomps and raucous cries,
With lewd intent I reach between his thighs.

Midnight on the Sand
by John Boase
© 1999
Our midnight tryst upon the silvered sand
Was meant to be just like a movie scene;
Unfortunately nothing went as planned,
Too many tricky problems unforeseen.
So many people fishing on the beach!
Deep in the dunes we trudged to find a place;
Secluded, dark, romantic, out of reach,
Where we could let our passion run apace...
You got sand where sand isn't meant to go,
A stick dug painfully into your back;
A passing horse fly buzzed to say hello,
A squadron of mosquitoes made attack...
The only climax on that night of nights
Came when we put the lotion on our bites.

Retribution
by John Boase
© 1998
When I found that he was two-timing me,
I went there when I'd had too much to drink;
Outside his door I had the biggest pee,
Of being sprung I didn't even think.
Of course it was disgusting and obscene,
Unladylike, revolting, juvenile,
Repulsive, nauseating and unclean,
Though at the time appropriate, worthwhile.
I waited for the telephone to ring,
He'd blame me for it, curse, go off his brain;
I'd sympathize, denying everything,
Shock, disbelief and outrage I would feign.
He didn't ring, that egoistic slime,
He knew I'd piss on him a second time.
from the sonnet narrative

Carnevale
by John Boase
© 2000 11
The markets vibrant, cheery, feverish,
Noise, colors, smells of produce on the breeze;
Shrimps, garlic, peppers, mushrooms, lemons, fish,
Asparagus, beans, mussels, strawberries.
A fruit stall woman chats, a florist jokes,
A fish man flaunts theatrical routine;
A workman sings while trimming artichokes,
Exuberance in chaos is the scene.
Tomatoes lush and ripe, fresh from the vine,
Coarse, crusty bread, cheese of celestial smell;
Sweet raspberries, light, flavorsome red wine,
A feast for two, consumed in my hotel.
'A gentle stroll, perhaps?' She shakes her head,
'I'd rather spend the afternoon in bed'.

from the sonnet narrative
Chateau
by John Boase
© 2000
(The men have waited on table, dressed in black shoes, black trousers and white shirts. By the end of dinner, however, they've lost their shirts: 'They served our cognac naked to the waist'... Now read on)
18
Long gallery, gilt mirrors, candle light,
Scenes pastoral, stern portraits lined the walls;
Grim ancients in whose minds we'd reignite
Liaisons secret, lavish costume balls.
I pressed into my lover's manly chest,
His muscle-rippling back my arms around;
Exulting in the pressure on my breast,
His knee pushed forward, pressing on my mound.
Slow, steamy dance, lust dominating thought,
Desire for him an overwhelming urge;
I licked his skin, my mouth his nipples sought,
And felt a tidal wave of passion surge.
Lips locked, tongues met with urgency, hands strayed,
Curvaceous bottoms mirrored as they swayed.

Erotic Muse is poetry for the thinking person. Nearly 1200 sonnets, hours of enjoyable reading.

A reviewer likened the book to 'an old-fashioned train journey through varied and breathtaking scenery.'

Enjoy the wit, the insight and the wicked imagination of John Boase.

A sonnet a day keeps your lover at play

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Catalogue Information

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