This is the first of several Q&As, conducted via email, with contributors to Peep Show: Erotic Tales of Voyeurs and Exhibitionists.
M. March
How did you come up with the idea for your story in Peep Show?
This story, “Missing Michael,” was actually from an old novel I was working on. The whole novel was written from the point of view of a gay man, but I chickened out with finishing that novel and decided it was better to write a new novel written from the point of view of someone more like me, i.e., a lesbian. But I had saved the old novel because I really liked parts of it and thought I could salvage it eventually in one form or another. So the story in Peep Show started with the first paragraph of the first page of that old novel, but then I rewrote it so much, it bares no resemblance to that old novel at all.
Did the story change as you were writing it from your original conception of it?
Like I said, I originally planned for this to be a rewrite of that old novel, so that definitely changed. It’s kind of difficult to remember, as I wrote it so long ago, but I don’t think I had multiple viewpoints in the original conception.
What’s your favorite line or paragraph from your story?
“I’ll eat his ass like it’s a seven-course meal and suck his nipples like they’re a cold milkshake.”
Is your Peep Show story similar to or different from your usual erotic writing style?
Definitely different. I never wrote a gay erotic short story before and it seems odd that I would, considering I’m a lesbian. But there’s a part of me that can understand the beauty in men, especially queer men, and also a part of me that feels mentally like I am a gay man. Also, I had some experience in my life being in a heterosexual relationship, so I do understand the sexual appeal of a male, and the sexual experience of being with a male.
The multiple viewpoints is also different than how I usually write, and this story is much more poignant than I usually write. I tend to write funnier erotic stories. For me, I think I was trying to write about a breakup I had, which to me felt like a death, and writing about how you move on from that.
What do you think is sexy about exhibitionism and/or voyeurism?
That’s a good question. I think there’s something sexy about having sex where you could be caught, but likely won’t be. (Because I’ve been caught almost having sex once, and trust me, that wasn’t fun at all.) Like if you’re in a hotel room and you stare out the window, and you can see all these people below you, but they can’t see that you are 10 floors up having sex. It’s almost like you’re having an orgy, because these other people are sort of involved in your sex scene. I got a few hand jobs in clubs and it was done very discreetly, but I got such a high, thinking, “I’m doing this and all these people are watching me, but they don’t realize it.” I’m not even sure I can put it into words why it’s exciting, but it is.
Voyeurism is not really my bag, though I will admit I like some films where people are having sex. And it’s kind of cool in the summertime when my female neighbor decides not to bother with a shirt.
If you care to answer, are you more of a voyeur, exhibitionist, or neither? Do you think there’s something inherently exhibitionistic about writing, especially writing erotica?
I’m more of an exhibitionist, as my last answer illustrates. And I think there is something exhibitionistic about writing fiction, regardless of genre. Although fiction is not true, everyone assumes that what you write is based on your personal life. And with erotica, people think God knows what kind of sex life you have. I am very private about what I tell people, but with my writing I let it all hang out, because I love writing, and to hold back exposing myself in my writing would not serve my writing well at all. It can be exciting being that exhibitionistic in writing. There’s a thrill, very similar to the thrill you get being sexual in public. It’s exciting to release a guarded part of yourself, very freeing.
What are you working on next?
I have a big Excel sheet with all kinds of deadlines I may or may not ever get to, but I really do hope to have a first draft of my novel written within a year. I signed up with NanoWriMo so I can get going on that. I am also contemplating a creative writing MFA, which I have been contemplating ever since I got the BA.
M. March (”Missing Michael”) is the pseudonym of a writer who has contributed to the New York Post, AfterEllen, AfterElton, Gay City News, Blacktable.com, Self, Complete Woman, Time Out New York, First-Timers and Spanked: Red-Cheeked Erotica. Nonerotica interests include watching cult movies, browsing in bookstores, drinking strong coffee and listening to obscure disco.
Below is an excerpt from “Missing Michael” by M. March. Read the whole story in Peep Show: Erotic Tales of Voyeurs and Exhibitionists. Read excerpts from all 18 Peep Show stories here.
I’ve just gotten a monster erection.
It happened when Gym Boy took off his shirt. I got this terrible craving to pinch his hard, red nipples and then my dick got huge, swollen beyond belief. I was scared someone would notice it, so I went into the bathroom to take care of myself.
And now as I touch my cock, I can’t help but see Gym Boy in swimming trunks. He is kissing me and sticking a finger up my ass and covering my prick with his mouth and I am getting so hard and I am screaming and stroking myself so fast I may have a heart attack. A part of me hopes I will. I need to see Michael again.
Oh God, this feels so good. No, not just good; I am mad with pleasure. I feel like strutting around the gym–no, all of New York–with my giant cock out for every man to see and suck.
I spy a hole in the wall and think it’s the perfect size, and before I realize how ridiculous it is, I’m putting my dick in there, and thrusting my hips, and smacking my bare ass. I am not thinking about moving out of our house. I am not worrying about how to turn down that great guy my sister wants me to date; I am not wondering how I will manage to visit my husband’s grave without having yet another nervous breakdown.
All I am doing is thinking of Gym Boy.
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