Simply Erotic Lines

One of the joys of this community is the sharing of ideas and the finding of unique sites that add something to our lives.

This week I found a new treasure of a site that I absolutely love. François Dubeau's site at http://www.francoisdubeau.com/ has some of the most erotic and simply beautiful images. I have fallen in love with them.

After some email exchange (in which he said the nicest things in French, which I did have to translate... oh, I am too easy for language offered a sexy as this) François was gracious enough to allow me to include some of his images here on my blog and shared a bit about the creation of his artwork.

I hope you enjoy both his art and his words as much as I do.

___________________________

My muse, she likes to hover just on the edge… waiting for the last few strokes…

I often go to my muse when I’m dead tired, blasted, on my knees. That’s when all the barriers fall: the self-critique, the inner-consciousness, the über-shyness. When my consciousness has been beaten to a pulp by fatigue, my primitive reptilian brain takes over. Listen: the balls speaketh! Then, things start to happen. Imagination is free to flow wherever it wants, unrehearsed, exploring every fold and crevasse until it finds something, without asking itself “what will the neighbors think?”

Ultimately, I never know where it comes from, really. I just sit there, with my tool in my hand, waiting for my muse to wake up. I’ll start teasing her with slow, random gestures. Still she sleeps. A bit more vigor should rouse her from her slumber. Ah, something, but it’s still a bit feeble. I try again, with a more mobile, dancing gesture. Ah! Pay dirt! So that’s where you want to go, my love. Interesting. Ok, let’s see where this’ll lead us. Follow your bliss!

Sometimes, it’s a quickie: the tension is just too great and climax just… happens… before you know it. Fast and furious. They’re often the best ones; we’ve had a few memorable ones like that, my muse and me.

Other times, it’s slow and multi-faceted. It seems to go one way only to change direction without warning. You end up somewhere that’s miles from where you started, after a long and delightful journey.

.

Often, it’s nothing to write home about, but still, it was loads and loads of fun! Ice cream's always tasty, even vanilla.

And then, there are those that come out of nowhere, leaving you dazed and wondering “what was that all about?”

They’re all good, really, but the best ones, the most elusive ones, are the thunderbolts. You never see them coming and they just explode: Bam!, leaving you panting and drained. One or two lines, and it’s there in all its elemental glory: don’t touch it anymore! Those are few and far between. Alas! You try to recreate the feeling, the mood, but you never quite get it: "Close, but no cigar!" she says. It can’t be coaxed, it can’t be deliberately called: it just happens.

~ François Dubeau