As always on this ship, we are dedicated to integrity, high moral fiber, and tastefulness. (*looks aside at the teleprompter* Tastefulness? Really? Oh! Yes, of course, never mind.) Oh, and themes, of course, so with Marnee talking about sex yesterday; and Sin talking about sexual tension at her place of work, I thought…well, there wasn’t so much thinking involved as a lot of gossiping. If I might have your indulgence.

 

Some weeks ago, at Vauxhall, we were talking about cocks, and we were lamenting that there aren’t a lot of cock odes. Like, there are no cock odes.

 

Which is really odd, considering how well thought of they are by their owners. And, er, their borrowers. As it were.

 

I thought there’d be rows of books about them, all in pentameter rhyme; but my search for penis poetry proved fruitless. (I do promise to endeavor to keep searching.) In the meantime, someone (*Terri*) suggested I write one. Although I don’t know why she thinks I’m that familiar with them.

 

Still, I don’t like to back down from a challenge, so I thought I’d try my hand at it.

 

*blank look*

 

No pun intended.

 

Right. Enough dawdling. Here goes…nothing.

 

Hellion’s Ode to the—er—You Know

 

I admit in the past, I’m the

Sort of lass who circumvents

And perhaps when handed Time,

I’m not always well-spent.

But I’m willing to make up for past sins

And give into your hints:

I never guessed happiness could come

In six-inch increments.

 

Now I’ve, er, egg on my face,

But I’m feeling sublime.

Now I’m sated, recreated,

And every other male line.

Oh, how could I have feared something

That only wanted to show me a good time?

Waller’s right, for the waste of all

Previous opportunity was surely a crime.

 

I’ve found a new way to measure time

Than with the tick of a clock;

I’d boast I could do this all day,

But I’m not sure I could walk.

If I admit I’m now addicted,

Do you promise not to mock?

I promise hencefore to give my gratitude

To a well-thrusted c—

 

Yeah, it’s not Shakespeare, but I should get a few marks for enthusiasm. Now the questions of the day (um, no, not your favorite cock story…though I might enjoy a limerick or two): in romances, what is the most ridiculous word you’ve read in reference to the…well…our topic? Throbbing manroot? Pulsing spear? What? If you write, how do you handle the situation? Ambiguously or with, uh, bold wording?

 

And as an aside, is it wrong I think it’s hysterical that my ex-boyfriend hates the word “cock”? Which I found out while a few drinks the worse at some happy hour and then proceeded to insert the word repeatedly into whatever I was saying. Yes, he brings out my petty side. So aside from ridiculous, what references draw you out of a sex scene? And we don’t have to pick on the men either, I can list several female terms that does not enhance a scene for me. *LOL*

 

And to raise the level of this blog slightly out of the gutter, I would like to point out that Eloisa James’ Duchesses series have been “name dropping” some amusing slang for use. Pizzle, for instance. And prick. I should point out she was not name-dropping within the sex scene–I think Ms. James chooses the more ambiguous way of referencing…a sort of “I’m assuming you know which sex has which part and where the parts are fitting” assumption.