Mostly, I deleted them because of the quality of the stories. Reading back over them, I find the characters to be too one-dimensional, especially the women. Most of these were written years ago when I was in a bad bout of depression and I just kept writing because the feedback cheered me up. I spent a lot of time telling people what I thought they wanted to hear, and as a result, most of them were just girls getting used as cum dumpsters by lucky young men. This isn't what I want to be remembered for.
As I developed as a writer, and as a human being, I realized why these stories (and the attitudes they represent) were wrong. There was a major life experience that changed my entire perspective. A woman I know, a dear friend of mine was raped. She suffered immensely and never really got over it. She struggled on for nearly a whole year with the horrors of this incident in her mind, trying to put her life back together, trying to regain some sanity and stability. But she failed. They found her dead in her bedroom with an empty bottle of sleeping pills next too a half-finished bottle of whiskey. The note said, "Why should I go on when all I'll ever be is a piece of meat with a hole to fuck?"
It broke my heart, and it still hurts to this day. She was a beautiful person who was always so eager to laugh, and so willing to take care of other people. She was a human being with hopes and dreams, thoughts and feelings. She knew a thousand jokes. She loved a thousand songs. She had a million happy memories that made her smile every day. She had green eyes and black hair.
But this guy only saw her as a hole to fuck. That's all she was to him. And in my stories, that's all she was, too. That's all women ever were.
I couldn't read any of my old stories. I couldn't write any more. I still can't. Not those kinds of stories anyway. When I logged back into SOL one evening, and scrolled through a few of them, I just felt disgusted and ashamed, like I had indirectly contributed to my friend's death, or at least contributed to the kind of society where people think women are just pieces of meat with holes to fuck. I actually cried as I read over them. I tried to say sorry to her, wherever she is. I hope she got the message. But it would have been meaningless if I'd left them up. I even deleted my back-up copies. I left "A Beautiful Mess" online because it seemed to do the least damage. It actually had a message that over all contributed to making the world better. It's not perfect, but it does the least damage.
Fans loved the stories, though, so they tell me. Even women have emailed me begging me to put them back up. I couldn't though. If I ever write another sex story, it will be a story where women overcome their struggles and stand strong no matter what's thrown at them. It will be a story Candace would be proud of.
I hope you understand my reasoning. And I hope you realize I don't judge anybody for whatever stories they might write. (Except for maybe gratuitous rape stories. That shit's not helping anybody.) All stories need to be told, but the best stories tell truth, the whole truth, all sides of it. If you're going to write sex stories, remember that the hottest thing you could ever describe is a real, true-to-life situation where things don't always go easily and perfectly. Feelings sometimes get hurt, hearts get broken, people get crushed. But hopefully, you find a way to help the characters recover in the end.
The most beautiful thing you'll ever read or write is a story about real human beings. Give it a try.