When I write my erotic stories, it's all about getting the erection. That's what we want to see (read) especially when we're in the MPOV. Who doesn't want to know what he's thinking when he first pops a woody thinking about the heroine? When he's driven straight out of his pants with desire, just by looking at her, or hearing her laugh, or seeing her smile. We love it when the zipper is carving a tattoo on that shlong becasue the wind picked up her skirt just enough, or she licked that drop of chocolate fondue off the corner of her mouth so slowly it made every cell in his body vibrate.
It's all about the cock, just admit it ladies.
Big ones, small ones, crooked ones... we're curious. We want to know how it feels the when she wraps her hand around it for the first time, watching his reaction as she strokes it just right.
And damn it... we love that bulge in his jeans. Don't shake your head. You. Love. It. And if we're just throwing all the honest shit out there, we especially love those trouser snakes that cause our heroine to give a wide-eyed glance, and possibly a gulp.
We love big cocks and we cannot lie.
That was lame, but we're talking about boners here. We can't take ourselves too seriously.
Say it out loud.
So, there you have it. My take on the importance of the erection in books. What is it about the rise in the Levi's that gets you going? Could you care less?