I read the article on the link, and you know, I am getting really tired of people who turn up their noses at explicit images and prose as being un-erotic. The writer pines for the “pre-Chatterly” days when authors had to arouse with metaphor and implication and laments today’s prose takes all the magic out of it. But it strikes me that these stances are often more about hypocrisy and dishonesty than they are about style and aesthetic. They place the dysfunction or deficiency on the modern author or reader for “resorting” to explicit content, instead of on themselves where perhaps it should be. It’s a pity when prudish snobbery, shaped by centuries of societal repression, censorship, and shame, prevent someone from enjoying sensuality in all its forms. Sure, merely showing a naked woman and her pussy is not always erotic, nor are all explicit sex scenes written in novels (though they can be hilarious), but they often are. Or at least I find them that way, and I am tired of people trying to make me feel guilty for it.