jfinn
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- Jun 12, 2002
- Posts
- 593
Thought some of you might enjoy this and after all it's always good to brush up on the basics. 
Jayne
Warnings: M/M/M, anal sex, graphic descriptions of proper grammer usage and the art of storytelling
==============================*==========
The author permits any kind of archiving, posting,
reposting, and reproduction in fixed form or otherwise, free
or for profit, of this story. Copyright (C) 2005 by Felix
Lance Falkon, Felixfal...@comcast.net. This work is
unsuitable for minors. Comments invited. Note that this
version is plain-text, with blank lines between paragraphs
and also five-space indents of the first line of every
paragraph of the story text.
==============================*==============================*=
(The ** starts emphasis [underlining or italics]; the * ends
emphasis.)
------------------------------*------------------------------*-
A DIALOG & WRITING LESSON
verson of 16 March 2005
by Felix Lance Falkon
Morganstern, stretched out on his back, looked up at
Jon, the taut-muscled blond just starting his first thrust
down into Morganstern's bigger, more solidly muscled body.
But with no more than an inch inside, Jon stopped and held
his lean, supple phisique perfectly still. "What's the
matter?" Morganstern asked. Jon said "Short fuze, real
short." "Afraid you'll go off too soon?" "Sure am."
"May I make a few suggestions?" asked Morganstern as he
felt Jon cautiously ease himself an inch deeper.
"Go ahead," said Jon with a jerk of his head that swung
his blond hair clear of his eyes. "Suggest away."
"Don't put your reply in the **same* paragraph as my
question, the way you did in the first paragraph of this
story. Instead, start a new paragraph with **every* change
in who's speaking, as I'm doing now."
"Uh -- why?"
Morganstern felt his abdominal muscles contract into a
taut, concave ripple as he curled his hips up to meet the
next impaling thrust. He took a deep breath, tightened the
layer of muscle that swept across his broad chest, then
said, "It makes it **lots* easier for the reader to tell
who's saying what. It's like . . . like in that first
paragraph, the reader's not **quite* sure who said, `Afraid
I'll shoot too soon.' Also, you'll have shorter paragraphs,
which are easier to read than screens or pages full of
uninterrupted columns of type. Newspapermen call writing
such long paragraphs `tombstoning,' because the results look
like grey tombstones.
"Indenting **every* paragraph makes a story much easier
to read. So does writing in reasonably short paragraphs. And
since that's the way almost all printed fiction is done,
it's what the reader expects. Don't distract the reader from
what you and I are doing and saying Right Now.
"And if you're preparing a story you're going to post
on a newsgroup or transmit by e-mail, put a blank line after
each paragraph, limit line length to about 6o or 65
characters and spaces, and indent each paragraph five spaces
instead of using the `tab' key. And -- do **not* make the
right margin straight -- that is, do not `right justify' a
text file; leave the right margin ragged the way I'm doing
here." Morganstern felt Jon thrust himself in another inch,
and met that thrust with a wiggle and squirm as he felt Jon
push even harder in response.
"Okay; what else?" asked Jon.
"When you ask a question in dialog, put the question
mark or exclamation point at the end, **inside* the quote
marks, without putting a comma there too -- the way you did
in the paragraph just before this one."
"Oh." Jon took a deep breath, went in deeper. "And --
did you say you had more suggestions?" he asked.
"Yup. When you have a bit of dialog that **doesn't* end
with a question mark or exclamation point, and **is*
followed by `he said' -- or `he asked' or `he replied' or a
phrase like that -- then use a comma -- **inside* the
quotation marks -- like this," said Morganstern. "Use a
period just before the closing quote marks when you don't
have a `he said' -- or `asked' or the like following those
quote marks -- like this." Morganstern squirmed again. "If
you begin a sentence with `he said' or a similar phrase, put
a comma right after the last word before the quote marks,
and then capitalize the first word **after* the quote
marks."
Jon began a more vigorous thrust. "I think I
understand."
"Three more things: Don't feel that you have to reach
for substitutes for `said' in speech tags. Using
`interpolated' or `expounded' or `intoned' is far more
distracting than the simple `he said,' which is almost
invisible to the reader. Those fancy substitutes distract
the reader from what's being said inside the quotation
marks. Of course, the verb in a speech tag has to be one
that makes sense: you can't `squirm' a sentence; you can't
hiss a sentence without sibilants, like, `Take that!'
"With questions," Morganstern said, "use `he asked.'
Use `whispered' or `growled' or verbs like those **very*
sparingly. Use them only when you're giving the reader
additional information that the context doesn't already make
clear. For example: ` "Good morning," Kurt snarled.' In this
case, the **way* Kurt spoke doesn't match the words Kurt
used. Here, you **must* use `snarled' to make the reader
aware of that mismatch."
"And the other two things?" Jon asked. He was breathing
harder now, and pulling back between strokes.
"One way to break up the monotony of `he said' `he
said' `he said' is to leave off the speech tag entirely --
but only when it's perfectly obvious who's speaking. With
just the two of us, and you asking questions and me
answering them, we can leave out `Jon said' and `Morganstern
said' and go for several paragraphs without confusing the
reader. With ordinary conversation and only two speakers,
you should identify who's talking about every third
paragraph. And always make it clear which `he' you mean,
**especially* if you have three speakers of the same gender
going at it.
"Then, if one of us talks for more than one paragraph
at a time -- as I'm doing right now -- leave off the end-of-
paragraph quote marks until the **last* paragraph of that
multi-paragraph speech," Morganstern said as he tightened
his arms around Jon's chest, locking their naked bodies
together. "But you still need opening quotes at the **start*
of every paragraph of that speech, as I did here.
"Another way to break up the monotony of `he said' is
to do this." Morganstern felt Jon's muscles tighten, felt
him drive in deeper. "In the same paragraph with a within-
quotes speech, end the quoted part with a period -- or a
full stop if you are a Briton -- and then put in something
like my feeling you tighten up as you sink yourself hilt-
deep into me. This can advance the plot at the same time
that the writer establishes who is saying the words inside
the quote marks. But again: readers just don't notice the
`he said' as long as what he's saying is **interesting."*
"Yeah? Lemme get this straight." Jon stopped his next
stroke in mid-thrust. "When you interrupt the quoted part,
and you want to use a verb that is **not* a synonym or
substitute for `said,' you end what's inside the quotes with
a period, and start what follows the quote with a capital
letter. And with questions and question marks, do them like
this?" He grinned down at Morganstern. "But if you **are*
using `he said' or `he asked' right after some stuff in
quotes, then you **don't* put a capital letter on the `he,'
even if the quoted part ends in a question mark or an
exclamation point -- right?" he asked.
"Exactly." Now Morganstern felt Jon thrust even harder
with his next stroke, felt a bit of rotary motion as well.
"And just like this," he said as he grinned back up at Jon.
"And I even noticed how you're using single quotes
inside the double-quote marks without your telling me."
"Actually, I'd rather use `` and '' for opening and
closing quotes, but I haven't found anyone else that likes
them, even though they are standard keyboard characters
doubled. Using anything **not* on a standard keyboard in e-
mailed or news-group stories -- like using `smart quotes' or
any of the **typesetting* double-quote codes such as <@147>
or “ -- is a real pain for readers whose equipment doesn't
fit yours just right."
"Well," said Jon, "I still say this a really weird time
t' make with a grammar lesson -- but yeah, my equipment fits
into yours real nice and tight."
Morganstern felt a grin spread across his own face.
"Well, the grammar lesson's keeping you cooled down, isn't
it? A lusty young colt like you will usually go off too soon
when he climbs onto a big, hunky muscle-stud like me; and
you've been riding me for -- Hey! Slow **down!* You're
almost there!"
"Yeah -- I -- noticed. Talk -- t' me -- about --
something -- else -- quick," Jon panted as he slowed almost
to a stop.
"Lemme see -- you got **me* going too -- there's, yeah,
emphasis: since plain-text e-mail doesn't have underlining
or italics, I use ** to begin emphasized words and * to end
that emphasis. I do the same for a character's unspoken
thoughts."
Morganstern silently told himself, **Now we're both
cooling down.* Aloud, he said, "The reader can convert those
asterisks to his own word-processor's codes for underlining
or italics, or just leave them in the file that way.
"There **are* other ways to emphasize in text. One is
simply to capitalize the Initial Letters of the words you
want to emphasize. For even greater emphasis, since ordinary
e-mail doesn't support bold-face or bold-face-italic type,
capitalize the WHOLE word. Beyond that, you can (on **very*
special occasions) do T*H*I*S. Although _some_ people like
to emphasize with a single underline before and after an
emphasized word, I think the ** and * work better,
especially if you use lots of dashes for punctuation.
"Watch out for the difference between the dash -- which
pushes phrases apart -- and the well-placed hyphen, which
pulls words together into compounds like `plain-text' and
`e-mail' and even `well-muscled.' "
Jon asked, "What about those -- what do you call 'em --
three dots?"
"That's called an ellipsis. You can use one instead of
a dash. Most readers will see the dash as showing an abrupt
change in what you're saying, or -- at the end of a word --
that you've suddenly stopped. The ellipsis . . ." His voice
trailed off, then re-started. "The ellipsis implies that you
**gradually* stopped in the middle of a sentence . . . or at
the end of a complete one. . . ." Morganstern wet his lips.
"Note: with complete sentences, use a period **plus* three
dots. Incomplete ones, just . . .
"All too many writers have the bad habit of reaching
for substitutes for words they've already used. A very
perceptive science-fiction writer once wrote, `English has
no synonyms; it has a great many words that mean **almost*
the same thing.' And Mark Twain wrote, `The difference
between the right word and the almost right word is the
difference between the lightning and the lightning bug.' He
also wrote, `Use the **right* word, not its second cousin.'
Or to paraphrase Samuel Taylor Coleridge, `Good writing is
the right words in the right order.' "
"Some writers -- present company excepted, of course --
will invent several different ways to identify someone in a
story, and then -- for no other reason than avoid using the
**same* words for the **same* thing -- such a writer might
call you `Jon,' and in your next appearance, `the lithe-
bodied youth,' then `the lusty writer.' Next, he might use
your last name alone, then `the naked young man who just
mounted Morganstern's splendidly muscled physique,' and then
back to `Jon,' leaving the reader unsure if you are one
character, or five."
Jon snickered, then said, " `Splendidly muscled
physique' indeed!"
"Well, I **am.* muscled splendidly. I worked hard to
get these muscles, and I'm not letting the reader forget them."
"I know, I know. And since muscle-hunks like you happen
t' turn me on --"
"I noticed **that* already."
"-- but I'm not sure I like conceited ones --"
"You wouldn't want me to **lie* about my magnificent
musculature, would you?"
"-- and I can't tell if you're kidding when you say
things like that; and that makes it even funnier, even if
you are being serious; but if we start laughing while we're
doing **this* --" Jon thrust hard, squirmed, eased back,
slowed almost to a stop again. "-- it'll be over much too
soon. So -- let's get back t' the writing lesson, before I
-- you know."
"Just as bad as reaching too often for substitute words
is beginning a story with tiresomely detailed physical
descriptions, measurements, and past histories of all the
principal characters -- which is precisely what we did not
do here. Instead, we followed the ancient advice: start **in
media res,* which is Latin for `in the middle of things.'
Homer did, some three **thousand* years ago, beginning the
**Iliad* with: `Sing, Goddess, of the anger of Achilles,'
right smack in the middle of the Trojan War. Those words
sing to us yet.
"Thus, we started **this* story, quite literally,
during your first thrust. Blocks of explanation, like these
paragraphs, are useful to cool someone down. But fiction
works better if the writer slips in background details and
descriptions of the principal characters a few words at a
time, early in the action, and with lectures, if any, broken
up by action and dialog. Here and there, as what's happening
in the main plot may suggest, the point-of-view character
may be reminded of something in his past."
"Like -- like maybe your very first -- you know . . ."
"Right." Morganstern took a deep breath, feeling his
broad chest expand, remembering, for a few seconds, the
smell of the gym down by the beach. He remembered the ache
in his muscles after a hard workout, remembered the first
time he'd stayed behind after the other bodybuilders left
for the evening. He and the gym's night manager had stripped
down all the way, stiffened themselves up, and then, on a
bench in front of the biggest mirror in the gym, . . .
Morganstern shook the memories away. "Yes, because a
first **any*thing is something that people, real and
imaginary, **do* remember. Even more so, the very **first*
time you go all the way, either with a well-buffed hunk or a
twenty-buck hustler, leaves you changed, **deeply* changed.
What's happened, what's made you change is **important* to
you -- which makes what happened in that story important and
interesting to the reader as well.
"Now, this deep into a story really isn't the time to
stop for a static description of my electric-blue eyes; my
curly brown hair; even my winsome, snub-nosed face. The
reader might have decided, pages and pages ago, that I have
aquiline features and dark eyes and shoulder-length black
hair, because I didn't **show* the reader otherwise in the
first few paragraphs, either by having me **remember* how I
look or by letting the reader **see* those details through
my eyes. And since you didn't have a convenient mirror
mounted on the ceiling for me -- and the reader -- to look
up at my reflection while you were busily . . .
"But you're right, of course: mentioning my
`magnificently muscled physique' **was* overdoing it this
far into the story, and especially if I hadn't already
established in the first few paragraphs that we're a couple
of well-built hunks. After that, it can help the reader to
**be* the point of view character, to **be* in the middle of
the erotically exciting events --"
" `Erotically exciting'? Now I know you're kidding."
Jon carefully pulled way back, then slid in hilt-deep again.
"-- if I slip in an occasional reminder of our
hunkyness. I can mention the pressure of your warm, wide
chest against my powerful thighs, because that's what's
happening to me **right now,* and --"
"Now you've done it!" Jon thrust faster, harder, faster
still.
"Can't -- you -- slow -- down?"
"Not -- now. Too -- hot. **Real* hot."
"I -- noticed," panted Morganstern, trying to meet
every impaling thrust.
Jon suddenly gasped aloud, rammed himself all the way
in, went rigid, and then slowly, slowly relaxed and started
breathing again. "I was going along okay, stretching it out
just like you told me to, until you reminded me just what
we're doing, and what your thighs feel like against my chest
-- and then how deep I was going, and -- and all of a
sudden, I couldn't stop." He panted for a moment, then said,
"I bet you can't keep this lesson going with **you* on top."
"I can so! Where's my shirt? I always carry a few extra
in my pocket. I'll put one of them on before we . . ."
"Don't worry -- I got a supply in my bureau. Let me
see." Jon straightened his arms, looked down between their
still-linked bodies, and said, "Yeah -- as long and thick as
yours is, an `extra large' oughta fit just right."
"That was deftly done," said Morganstern, as Jon pulled
himself out, rolled off, and -- a moment later -- sat up.
"Huh?"
"Without stopping to explain or to cite measurements,
you established that we're using protection and that I'm
well-equipped for our next round. You're letting the reader
decide just how long and thick and wide my `extra large'
might be."
"Yeah?" Jon, now on his feet, pulled open his bureau's
top drawer and passed a foil-wrapped packet to Morganstern,
who stood up, stretched, then opened the packet. "I s'pose
we could start measuring each other -- chest, arms, waist --
then drop t' the calves, work on up t' our thighs and -- you
know. That could -- that **would* be more interesting than
just saying how tall you are and how big around the chest
and, as you put it, how long and how thick where it -- it
counts." Jon grabbed a towel, peeled off his own protection,
and wiped himself dry. "Like -- Hey! Like the beginning of
this story, where you established, without ever stopping
what was going on, that you're bigger than me -- and a real
muscle-hunk at that -- but that I've got an okay body too."
"Another problem." Morganstern finished putting on the
`extra large' contents of the packet, then applied a dab of
the lubricant that Jon dug out of the drawer. "If you write
that a story-stud of yours has -- say -- eleven inches, some
readers will think this is exciting, but others will think
your character is laughably over-equipped. `What is all
right for B, will quite scandalize C, for C is so very
particular.' "
"Again -- huh?"
"A Gilbert & Sullivan quote. From **The Yeomen of the
Guard,* I think." Morganstern gestured at the bed with a
sweep of his right hand. Jon stretched out on his back,
tucked a pillow behind his head, and spread his legs.
Morganstern knelt between Jon's thighs, leaned forward,
found his target, thrust, and then stopped an inch or so
inside. "One writer likes his characters to be kind of
chubby and well-furred; another likes studs in their
twenties, with taut, sharply etched muscles they get from
working out at the gym." He eased an inch deeper, felt Jon
respond with a squirm and a squeeze.
"Got any Rules for which kind of characters t' use?"
"Nope. I really don't have any Rules for the writing
game -- just lots of suggestions. You **can* write a story
that's all dialog, with no speech tags at all; you just have
to realize that when you do, that format will take some of
the reader's attention away from what's going on in the
story.
"It helps to have the characters sound a bit different
from each other as they speak: I use long sentences with
long words; you speak more informally, with more slang, more
elisions."
"Elisions?" asked Jon.
Morganstern wiggled his hips from side to side, then
eased deeper still. "Leaving out **part* of a word, like
**s'pose* for **suppose,* or **t'* for **to.*
"Yeah? I notice that you stress a lot of words as you
talk, sorta like **this.* Makes you sound -- you know --
funny."
"It beats making one of us talk corn-pone hill-billy
talk to show what I mean. Somebody with a good ear can spot
the difference between a Kentucky accent and a Mississippi
one, or even between parts of London or between boroughs of
New York City, but I'm not **that* good.
"Then there's what a story's about. Some readers want
you to get on with the Main Event, with just enough plot to
get all the characters into the same bed at the same time.
Other readers want more plot and dialog, less details and
description. Still others get excited by stories of bondage
and humiliation, of whipping and torture; a few even like
stories of being eaten alive -- or worse -- and on stage."
Morganstern slid deeper into Jon, pulled back, thrust again.
Morganstern watched Jon grit his teeth, felt him clamp down
hard, felt and saw him relax with a long sigh. Jon's eyes
focused on Morganstern's, and the two men grinned at each
other.
Morganstern realized he was tensing up inside. He
slowed his stroke. "Some get turned on by characters who use
all the standard four-letter words, along with a few well-
chosen five- and six-letter ones. Others --"
"-- manage without any dirty words at all, like -- like
we've been doing --"
"-- which works as a demonstration, but does call
attention to **how* the story's told, instead of what's
going on in it. And while some people are really into incest
or under-age characters, others want to stay away from those
areas which are, as the old cliche has it, illegal, immoral,
or fattening."
"More suggestions?" asked Jon.
"An important one: although Kipling wrote: `There are
nine and sixty ways/ Of constructing tribal lays/ And every
single one of them is right,' I still think that the most
effective way to construct a story is to pick the **right*
point of view from which you can best tell that story, and
then put your reader firmly into that point-of-view
character -- seeing what the character sees, feeling what
the character feels, and thinking and remembering and
deciding as the character does those things. In short, let
the reader **be* that chosen character from one end of that
story to the other.
"The reader," said Morganstern, "will experience being
**in* the story if you -- the author -- avoid interrupting
the action to address the reader directly, if you avoid
making the reader jump into another character's head, and if
you avoid making him look down on the scene from a set of
disembodied eyes hovering over the action. Also, do not
start the story with a lecture, or biographies of the
characters, or a descriptive passage told from any point of
view other than that of your chosen character; don't delay
getting the reader **into* the story's point-of-view
character and into the story itself. And while a **really*
good writer can ignore this advice, very few of us writers
are **that* good."
"Hey," Jon said, "I thought you said that if a quoted
paragraph doesn't end with a close-quote mark, then the
following paragraph is automatically being said by the
speaker of the preceding one. So -- why did you identify
yourself as the speaker all over again just now?"
"It's more important to avoid confusing the reader than
it is to depend on the reader noticing that missing close-
quote mark. Now -- where was I?"
"About three inches deep and counting." Jon squirmed up
against Jon's next impaling thrust. "Maybe four, now, with
lots more to go."
"That too. Point of view -- a long story may be told
better as a series of shifts from one character to another
-- but only if there is a clear break -- always marked with
extra blank lines in manuscript, on screen, or printed on
paper. Some writers put a few asterisks across that space.
The first sentence following the break **must* put the
reader firmly into the next point-of-view character's head.
`Meanwhile, back at the Ranch,' is the classic marker for a
scene change in a horse opera. I saw one story recently in
which the point of view shifted from one of the story's two
characters to the other with **every* paragraph. That's hard
to do well, but it's a very interesting way to tell a story:
the reader is alternating between those two characters as
they interact, physically and in the dialog. But **almost*
always, the most effective way to tell a story is to tell it
from just one point of view, so the reader can really get
into that character's memory, and eyes, and ears --"
"-- and other appendages." Jon grabbed Morganstern's
hips, pulled in another inch. "Then if I wanted the reader
t' watch us from above, t' watch your back muscles working,
t' watch your butt pumping, pulling back, thrusting again,
then --"
"Well, you really can't do that and still hold *this*
story together. You **could* go back and rewrite the
beginning so that I look up at a mirror on the ceiling over
the bed and watch you humping away on top of my muscular
self, but that's about it. Having me remember **now* what I
saw **then* doesn't work at all -- you didn't **have* a
mirror on the ceiling, because if you **had,* I would have
noticed it **then* -- and so would the reader, who is
supposed to be me throught this story.
"A minor suggestion is to avoid having characters with
**names* that sound or look too much alike: `Joe' and `Moe,'
for example, or even `Danny' and `Dennis,' unless they
happen to be interchangeable twins and you want to emphasize
how much alike they are. With our names -- `Morganstern' has
three syllables, while `Jon' has one. Our names don't start
with the same letter. They don't even rhyme. So, there's
less chance to confuse the reader." Morganstern eased
himself deeper. "There -- all the way in. Are you still --"
"Billy!" yelped Jon.
" `Billy'? That would work -- two syllables, doesn't
rhyme with either --"
"I don't mean Billy, a two-syllable name that doesn't
rhyme; I mean Billy, my kid brother, who just came in
through the hall door I forgot t' lock."
Morganstern jerked his head around, looked back over
his shoulder, saw a sturdy young blond stride towards the
bureau, shedding clothes along the way. "Don't worry, dude,"
Billy said as he finished stripping and reached into the
bureau. "I'm at that in-between age: old enough to vote, too
young to buy beer, so even though I look like a kid, I'm not
jail-bait."
**So that's why Jon has that size on hand,* Morganstern
told himself as Billy stiffened up, pulled on an `extra
large,' and climbed onto the bed.
Jon said, "Billy, this is Morganstern. Morganstern,
Billy."
"And," Billy said as he knelt astride Morganstern's
thighs and found his target, "since I've got you sandwiched
'tween me and Jon, this doesn't count as incest either." He
slid himself half-way into Morganstern, paused for
Morganstern to catch his breath, then completed his impaling
thrust.
Morganstern felt a beardless chin snuggle against his
neck, caught a whiff of something spicy. "Mouthwash?" he
asked.
"Stuff I put on my hair," Billy said, tightening his
grip on Morganstern's chest.
Morganstern, now spitted to the hilt and stretched
tight, rammed himself all the way into Jon.
Jon gasped, then said, "Billy?"
"Yeah?"
"He's an `extra large' too."
"He is?" Billy pulled back a couple of inches,
carefully slid in again.
"Sure am," said Morganstern. "Jon's a nice fit; good
and tight, and the way he's squirming now . . ."
"You'd squirm too," panted Jon, "if you had this
muscle-boy plugged into you."
Morganstern felt Billy pull back and then ram himself
in all the way, heard Billy eagerly say, "Hey dude, that
sounds great! After we finish this round, let's swap around;
me on the bottom; Jon, you on top; Morganstern, you in the
middle again. I gotta find out how tight this big muscle-
dude'll feel inside me."
"Before we do that," said Jon, breathing hard, "there's
a mirror I bought yesterday. Now that's there's three of us
here, we can mount it on the ceiling, right over the bed.
Morganstern, if it'll keep you from going off too soon, how
'bout explaining t' Billy why we can't just look down on the
scene from up there."
"You **can* tell a story that way," said Morganstern,
now comfortably sandwiched between the blond brothers' warm,
naked bodies. "It's just -- usually -- more effective to
pick one point of view, and then let the reader **be* that
character all the way through a story to the end. And come
on, why would **any*body want to wiggle out from between you
two hunky studs and go flitting, like a bat, up amongst the
cobwebs? Instead, I've got Billy's chest against my back,
and Jon squirming underneath, and I'm feeling Billy inside
me and feeling me poking around inside Jon, and all three of
us -- oops!"
Morganstern heard Jon ask, "You getting turned on?"
"Yeah." Morganstern felt himself fast coming to a boil
as he thrust harder, faster, harder still.
As Billy speeded his own stroke, he said into
Morganstern's ear, "I'll try and catch up."
Seconds later, Morganstern felt his muscles tighten.
Another stroke, and he went rigid. Billy thrust a few times
more, then went rigid too while he and Morganstern pumped
out their loads.
And still later: long, delicious minutes later,
Morganstern slowly relaxed, still catching his breath.
"Convinced?"
"Convinced," said Jon, from under Morganstern.
"Beats cobwebs any day," said Billy, his sweat-damp
body relaxing on Morganstern's back. "You did seem to be
laying it on a bit thick -- `Morganstern heard this,' . . .
`Morganstern felt that,' . . . you know."
" `Merely corroborative detail, . . .' " said
Morganstern.
And Billy's voice joined Morganstern's as they recited,
" `. . . intended to give artistic verisimilitude . . .' "
And Billy, alone, finished the quote: " `. . . to an
otherwise bald and unconvincing narrative.' Poo-Bah, in
**The Mikado,* words by Sir William Schwenk Gilbert of the
team of Gilbert & Sullivan."
"If I laid it on thick enough for you to notice, then I
laid it on thick enough to distract the reader," Morganstern
said.
"Come on, dude; you had to lay it on to make your
point." Billy sat up. "I'll get the ladder; you two bring up
the mirror. By the time we get that thing up and mounted, we
oughta be reloaded and ready for another round. So: what
tools do we need, Jon?"
------------END------------?
Jayne
Warnings: M/M/M, anal sex, graphic descriptions of proper grammer usage and the art of storytelling
==============================*==========
The author permits any kind of archiving, posting,
reposting, and reproduction in fixed form or otherwise, free
or for profit, of this story. Copyright (C) 2005 by Felix
Lance Falkon, Felixfal...@comcast.net. This work is
unsuitable for minors. Comments invited. Note that this
version is plain-text, with blank lines between paragraphs
and also five-space indents of the first line of every
paragraph of the story text.
==============================*==============================*=
(The ** starts emphasis [underlining or italics]; the * ends
emphasis.)
------------------------------*------------------------------*-
A DIALOG & WRITING LESSON
verson of 16 March 2005
by Felix Lance Falkon
Morganstern, stretched out on his back, looked up at
Jon, the taut-muscled blond just starting his first thrust
down into Morganstern's bigger, more solidly muscled body.
But with no more than an inch inside, Jon stopped and held
his lean, supple phisique perfectly still. "What's the
matter?" Morganstern asked. Jon said "Short fuze, real
short." "Afraid you'll go off too soon?" "Sure am."
"May I make a few suggestions?" asked Morganstern as he
felt Jon cautiously ease himself an inch deeper.
"Go ahead," said Jon with a jerk of his head that swung
his blond hair clear of his eyes. "Suggest away."
"Don't put your reply in the **same* paragraph as my
question, the way you did in the first paragraph of this
story. Instead, start a new paragraph with **every* change
in who's speaking, as I'm doing now."
"Uh -- why?"
Morganstern felt his abdominal muscles contract into a
taut, concave ripple as he curled his hips up to meet the
next impaling thrust. He took a deep breath, tightened the
layer of muscle that swept across his broad chest, then
said, "It makes it **lots* easier for the reader to tell
who's saying what. It's like . . . like in that first
paragraph, the reader's not **quite* sure who said, `Afraid
I'll shoot too soon.' Also, you'll have shorter paragraphs,
which are easier to read than screens or pages full of
uninterrupted columns of type. Newspapermen call writing
such long paragraphs `tombstoning,' because the results look
like grey tombstones.
"Indenting **every* paragraph makes a story much easier
to read. So does writing in reasonably short paragraphs. And
since that's the way almost all printed fiction is done,
it's what the reader expects. Don't distract the reader from
what you and I are doing and saying Right Now.
"And if you're preparing a story you're going to post
on a newsgroup or transmit by e-mail, put a blank line after
each paragraph, limit line length to about 6o or 65
characters and spaces, and indent each paragraph five spaces
instead of using the `tab' key. And -- do **not* make the
right margin straight -- that is, do not `right justify' a
text file; leave the right margin ragged the way I'm doing
here." Morganstern felt Jon thrust himself in another inch,
and met that thrust with a wiggle and squirm as he felt Jon
push even harder in response.
"Okay; what else?" asked Jon.
"When you ask a question in dialog, put the question
mark or exclamation point at the end, **inside* the quote
marks, without putting a comma there too -- the way you did
in the paragraph just before this one."
"Oh." Jon took a deep breath, went in deeper. "And --
did you say you had more suggestions?" he asked.
"Yup. When you have a bit of dialog that **doesn't* end
with a question mark or exclamation point, and **is*
followed by `he said' -- or `he asked' or `he replied' or a
phrase like that -- then use a comma -- **inside* the
quotation marks -- like this," said Morganstern. "Use a
period just before the closing quote marks when you don't
have a `he said' -- or `asked' or the like following those
quote marks -- like this." Morganstern squirmed again. "If
you begin a sentence with `he said' or a similar phrase, put
a comma right after the last word before the quote marks,
and then capitalize the first word **after* the quote
marks."
Jon began a more vigorous thrust. "I think I
understand."
"Three more things: Don't feel that you have to reach
for substitutes for `said' in speech tags. Using
`interpolated' or `expounded' or `intoned' is far more
distracting than the simple `he said,' which is almost
invisible to the reader. Those fancy substitutes distract
the reader from what's being said inside the quotation
marks. Of course, the verb in a speech tag has to be one
that makes sense: you can't `squirm' a sentence; you can't
hiss a sentence without sibilants, like, `Take that!'
"With questions," Morganstern said, "use `he asked.'
Use `whispered' or `growled' or verbs like those **very*
sparingly. Use them only when you're giving the reader
additional information that the context doesn't already make
clear. For example: ` "Good morning," Kurt snarled.' In this
case, the **way* Kurt spoke doesn't match the words Kurt
used. Here, you **must* use `snarled' to make the reader
aware of that mismatch."
"And the other two things?" Jon asked. He was breathing
harder now, and pulling back between strokes.
"One way to break up the monotony of `he said' `he
said' `he said' is to leave off the speech tag entirely --
but only when it's perfectly obvious who's speaking. With
just the two of us, and you asking questions and me
answering them, we can leave out `Jon said' and `Morganstern
said' and go for several paragraphs without confusing the
reader. With ordinary conversation and only two speakers,
you should identify who's talking about every third
paragraph. And always make it clear which `he' you mean,
**especially* if you have three speakers of the same gender
going at it.
"Then, if one of us talks for more than one paragraph
at a time -- as I'm doing right now -- leave off the end-of-
paragraph quote marks until the **last* paragraph of that
multi-paragraph speech," Morganstern said as he tightened
his arms around Jon's chest, locking their naked bodies
together. "But you still need opening quotes at the **start*
of every paragraph of that speech, as I did here.
"Another way to break up the monotony of `he said' is
to do this." Morganstern felt Jon's muscles tighten, felt
him drive in deeper. "In the same paragraph with a within-
quotes speech, end the quoted part with a period -- or a
full stop if you are a Briton -- and then put in something
like my feeling you tighten up as you sink yourself hilt-
deep into me. This can advance the plot at the same time
that the writer establishes who is saying the words inside
the quote marks. But again: readers just don't notice the
`he said' as long as what he's saying is **interesting."*
"Yeah? Lemme get this straight." Jon stopped his next
stroke in mid-thrust. "When you interrupt the quoted part,
and you want to use a verb that is **not* a synonym or
substitute for `said,' you end what's inside the quotes with
a period, and start what follows the quote with a capital
letter. And with questions and question marks, do them like
this?" He grinned down at Morganstern. "But if you **are*
using `he said' or `he asked' right after some stuff in
quotes, then you **don't* put a capital letter on the `he,'
even if the quoted part ends in a question mark or an
exclamation point -- right?" he asked.
"Exactly." Now Morganstern felt Jon thrust even harder
with his next stroke, felt a bit of rotary motion as well.
"And just like this," he said as he grinned back up at Jon.
"And I even noticed how you're using single quotes
inside the double-quote marks without your telling me."
"Actually, I'd rather use `` and '' for opening and
closing quotes, but I haven't found anyone else that likes
them, even though they are standard keyboard characters
doubled. Using anything **not* on a standard keyboard in e-
mailed or news-group stories -- like using `smart quotes' or
any of the **typesetting* double-quote codes such as <@147>
or “ -- is a real pain for readers whose equipment doesn't
fit yours just right."
"Well," said Jon, "I still say this a really weird time
t' make with a grammar lesson -- but yeah, my equipment fits
into yours real nice and tight."
Morganstern felt a grin spread across his own face.
"Well, the grammar lesson's keeping you cooled down, isn't
it? A lusty young colt like you will usually go off too soon
when he climbs onto a big, hunky muscle-stud like me; and
you've been riding me for -- Hey! Slow **down!* You're
almost there!"
"Yeah -- I -- noticed. Talk -- t' me -- about --
something -- else -- quick," Jon panted as he slowed almost
to a stop.
"Lemme see -- you got **me* going too -- there's, yeah,
emphasis: since plain-text e-mail doesn't have underlining
or italics, I use ** to begin emphasized words and * to end
that emphasis. I do the same for a character's unspoken
thoughts."
Morganstern silently told himself, **Now we're both
cooling down.* Aloud, he said, "The reader can convert those
asterisks to his own word-processor's codes for underlining
or italics, or just leave them in the file that way.
"There **are* other ways to emphasize in text. One is
simply to capitalize the Initial Letters of the words you
want to emphasize. For even greater emphasis, since ordinary
e-mail doesn't support bold-face or bold-face-italic type,
capitalize the WHOLE word. Beyond that, you can (on **very*
special occasions) do T*H*I*S. Although _some_ people like
to emphasize with a single underline before and after an
emphasized word, I think the ** and * work better,
especially if you use lots of dashes for punctuation.
"Watch out for the difference between the dash -- which
pushes phrases apart -- and the well-placed hyphen, which
pulls words together into compounds like `plain-text' and
`e-mail' and even `well-muscled.' "
Jon asked, "What about those -- what do you call 'em --
three dots?"
"That's called an ellipsis. You can use one instead of
a dash. Most readers will see the dash as showing an abrupt
change in what you're saying, or -- at the end of a word --
that you've suddenly stopped. The ellipsis . . ." His voice
trailed off, then re-started. "The ellipsis implies that you
**gradually* stopped in the middle of a sentence . . . or at
the end of a complete one. . . ." Morganstern wet his lips.
"Note: with complete sentences, use a period **plus* three
dots. Incomplete ones, just . . .
"All too many writers have the bad habit of reaching
for substitutes for words they've already used. A very
perceptive science-fiction writer once wrote, `English has
no synonyms; it has a great many words that mean **almost*
the same thing.' And Mark Twain wrote, `The difference
between the right word and the almost right word is the
difference between the lightning and the lightning bug.' He
also wrote, `Use the **right* word, not its second cousin.'
Or to paraphrase Samuel Taylor Coleridge, `Good writing is
the right words in the right order.' "
"Some writers -- present company excepted, of course --
will invent several different ways to identify someone in a
story, and then -- for no other reason than avoid using the
**same* words for the **same* thing -- such a writer might
call you `Jon,' and in your next appearance, `the lithe-
bodied youth,' then `the lusty writer.' Next, he might use
your last name alone, then `the naked young man who just
mounted Morganstern's splendidly muscled physique,' and then
back to `Jon,' leaving the reader unsure if you are one
character, or five."
Jon snickered, then said, " `Splendidly muscled
physique' indeed!"
"Well, I **am.* muscled splendidly. I worked hard to
get these muscles, and I'm not letting the reader forget them."
"I know, I know. And since muscle-hunks like you happen
t' turn me on --"
"I noticed **that* already."
"-- but I'm not sure I like conceited ones --"
"You wouldn't want me to **lie* about my magnificent
musculature, would you?"
"-- and I can't tell if you're kidding when you say
things like that; and that makes it even funnier, even if
you are being serious; but if we start laughing while we're
doing **this* --" Jon thrust hard, squirmed, eased back,
slowed almost to a stop again. "-- it'll be over much too
soon. So -- let's get back t' the writing lesson, before I
-- you know."
"Just as bad as reaching too often for substitute words
is beginning a story with tiresomely detailed physical
descriptions, measurements, and past histories of all the
principal characters -- which is precisely what we did not
do here. Instead, we followed the ancient advice: start **in
media res,* which is Latin for `in the middle of things.'
Homer did, some three **thousand* years ago, beginning the
**Iliad* with: `Sing, Goddess, of the anger of Achilles,'
right smack in the middle of the Trojan War. Those words
sing to us yet.
"Thus, we started **this* story, quite literally,
during your first thrust. Blocks of explanation, like these
paragraphs, are useful to cool someone down. But fiction
works better if the writer slips in background details and
descriptions of the principal characters a few words at a
time, early in the action, and with lectures, if any, broken
up by action and dialog. Here and there, as what's happening
in the main plot may suggest, the point-of-view character
may be reminded of something in his past."
"Like -- like maybe your very first -- you know . . ."
"Right." Morganstern took a deep breath, feeling his
broad chest expand, remembering, for a few seconds, the
smell of the gym down by the beach. He remembered the ache
in his muscles after a hard workout, remembered the first
time he'd stayed behind after the other bodybuilders left
for the evening. He and the gym's night manager had stripped
down all the way, stiffened themselves up, and then, on a
bench in front of the biggest mirror in the gym, . . .
Morganstern shook the memories away. "Yes, because a
first **any*thing is something that people, real and
imaginary, **do* remember. Even more so, the very **first*
time you go all the way, either with a well-buffed hunk or a
twenty-buck hustler, leaves you changed, **deeply* changed.
What's happened, what's made you change is **important* to
you -- which makes what happened in that story important and
interesting to the reader as well.
"Now, this deep into a story really isn't the time to
stop for a static description of my electric-blue eyes; my
curly brown hair; even my winsome, snub-nosed face. The
reader might have decided, pages and pages ago, that I have
aquiline features and dark eyes and shoulder-length black
hair, because I didn't **show* the reader otherwise in the
first few paragraphs, either by having me **remember* how I
look or by letting the reader **see* those details through
my eyes. And since you didn't have a convenient mirror
mounted on the ceiling for me -- and the reader -- to look
up at my reflection while you were busily . . .
"But you're right, of course: mentioning my
`magnificently muscled physique' **was* overdoing it this
far into the story, and especially if I hadn't already
established in the first few paragraphs that we're a couple
of well-built hunks. After that, it can help the reader to
**be* the point of view character, to **be* in the middle of
the erotically exciting events --"
" `Erotically exciting'? Now I know you're kidding."
Jon carefully pulled way back, then slid in hilt-deep again.
"-- if I slip in an occasional reminder of our
hunkyness. I can mention the pressure of your warm, wide
chest against my powerful thighs, because that's what's
happening to me **right now,* and --"
"Now you've done it!" Jon thrust faster, harder, faster
still.
"Can't -- you -- slow -- down?"
"Not -- now. Too -- hot. **Real* hot."
"I -- noticed," panted Morganstern, trying to meet
every impaling thrust.
Jon suddenly gasped aloud, rammed himself all the way
in, went rigid, and then slowly, slowly relaxed and started
breathing again. "I was going along okay, stretching it out
just like you told me to, until you reminded me just what
we're doing, and what your thighs feel like against my chest
-- and then how deep I was going, and -- and all of a
sudden, I couldn't stop." He panted for a moment, then said,
"I bet you can't keep this lesson going with **you* on top."
"I can so! Where's my shirt? I always carry a few extra
in my pocket. I'll put one of them on before we . . ."
"Don't worry -- I got a supply in my bureau. Let me
see." Jon straightened his arms, looked down between their
still-linked bodies, and said, "Yeah -- as long and thick as
yours is, an `extra large' oughta fit just right."
"That was deftly done," said Morganstern, as Jon pulled
himself out, rolled off, and -- a moment later -- sat up.
"Huh?"
"Without stopping to explain or to cite measurements,
you established that we're using protection and that I'm
well-equipped for our next round. You're letting the reader
decide just how long and thick and wide my `extra large'
might be."
"Yeah?" Jon, now on his feet, pulled open his bureau's
top drawer and passed a foil-wrapped packet to Morganstern,
who stood up, stretched, then opened the packet. "I s'pose
we could start measuring each other -- chest, arms, waist --
then drop t' the calves, work on up t' our thighs and -- you
know. That could -- that **would* be more interesting than
just saying how tall you are and how big around the chest
and, as you put it, how long and how thick where it -- it
counts." Jon grabbed a towel, peeled off his own protection,
and wiped himself dry. "Like -- Hey! Like the beginning of
this story, where you established, without ever stopping
what was going on, that you're bigger than me -- and a real
muscle-hunk at that -- but that I've got an okay body too."
"Another problem." Morganstern finished putting on the
`extra large' contents of the packet, then applied a dab of
the lubricant that Jon dug out of the drawer. "If you write
that a story-stud of yours has -- say -- eleven inches, some
readers will think this is exciting, but others will think
your character is laughably over-equipped. `What is all
right for B, will quite scandalize C, for C is so very
particular.' "
"Again -- huh?"
"A Gilbert & Sullivan quote. From **The Yeomen of the
Guard,* I think." Morganstern gestured at the bed with a
sweep of his right hand. Jon stretched out on his back,
tucked a pillow behind his head, and spread his legs.
Morganstern knelt between Jon's thighs, leaned forward,
found his target, thrust, and then stopped an inch or so
inside. "One writer likes his characters to be kind of
chubby and well-furred; another likes studs in their
twenties, with taut, sharply etched muscles they get from
working out at the gym." He eased an inch deeper, felt Jon
respond with a squirm and a squeeze.
"Got any Rules for which kind of characters t' use?"
"Nope. I really don't have any Rules for the writing
game -- just lots of suggestions. You **can* write a story
that's all dialog, with no speech tags at all; you just have
to realize that when you do, that format will take some of
the reader's attention away from what's going on in the
story.
"It helps to have the characters sound a bit different
from each other as they speak: I use long sentences with
long words; you speak more informally, with more slang, more
elisions."
"Elisions?" asked Jon.
Morganstern wiggled his hips from side to side, then
eased deeper still. "Leaving out **part* of a word, like
**s'pose* for **suppose,* or **t'* for **to.*
"Yeah? I notice that you stress a lot of words as you
talk, sorta like **this.* Makes you sound -- you know --
funny."
"It beats making one of us talk corn-pone hill-billy
talk to show what I mean. Somebody with a good ear can spot
the difference between a Kentucky accent and a Mississippi
one, or even between parts of London or between boroughs of
New York City, but I'm not **that* good.
"Then there's what a story's about. Some readers want
you to get on with the Main Event, with just enough plot to
get all the characters into the same bed at the same time.
Other readers want more plot and dialog, less details and
description. Still others get excited by stories of bondage
and humiliation, of whipping and torture; a few even like
stories of being eaten alive -- or worse -- and on stage."
Morganstern slid deeper into Jon, pulled back, thrust again.
Morganstern watched Jon grit his teeth, felt him clamp down
hard, felt and saw him relax with a long sigh. Jon's eyes
focused on Morganstern's, and the two men grinned at each
other.
Morganstern realized he was tensing up inside. He
slowed his stroke. "Some get turned on by characters who use
all the standard four-letter words, along with a few well-
chosen five- and six-letter ones. Others --"
"-- manage without any dirty words at all, like -- like
we've been doing --"
"-- which works as a demonstration, but does call
attention to **how* the story's told, instead of what's
going on in it. And while some people are really into incest
or under-age characters, others want to stay away from those
areas which are, as the old cliche has it, illegal, immoral,
or fattening."
"More suggestions?" asked Jon.
"An important one: although Kipling wrote: `There are
nine and sixty ways/ Of constructing tribal lays/ And every
single one of them is right,' I still think that the most
effective way to construct a story is to pick the **right*
point of view from which you can best tell that story, and
then put your reader firmly into that point-of-view
character -- seeing what the character sees, feeling what
the character feels, and thinking and remembering and
deciding as the character does those things. In short, let
the reader **be* that chosen character from one end of that
story to the other.
"The reader," said Morganstern, "will experience being
**in* the story if you -- the author -- avoid interrupting
the action to address the reader directly, if you avoid
making the reader jump into another character's head, and if
you avoid making him look down on the scene from a set of
disembodied eyes hovering over the action. Also, do not
start the story with a lecture, or biographies of the
characters, or a descriptive passage told from any point of
view other than that of your chosen character; don't delay
getting the reader **into* the story's point-of-view
character and into the story itself. And while a **really*
good writer can ignore this advice, very few of us writers
are **that* good."
"Hey," Jon said, "I thought you said that if a quoted
paragraph doesn't end with a close-quote mark, then the
following paragraph is automatically being said by the
speaker of the preceding one. So -- why did you identify
yourself as the speaker all over again just now?"
"It's more important to avoid confusing the reader than
it is to depend on the reader noticing that missing close-
quote mark. Now -- where was I?"
"About three inches deep and counting." Jon squirmed up
against Jon's next impaling thrust. "Maybe four, now, with
lots more to go."
"That too. Point of view -- a long story may be told
better as a series of shifts from one character to another
-- but only if there is a clear break -- always marked with
extra blank lines in manuscript, on screen, or printed on
paper. Some writers put a few asterisks across that space.
The first sentence following the break **must* put the
reader firmly into the next point-of-view character's head.
`Meanwhile, back at the Ranch,' is the classic marker for a
scene change in a horse opera. I saw one story recently in
which the point of view shifted from one of the story's two
characters to the other with **every* paragraph. That's hard
to do well, but it's a very interesting way to tell a story:
the reader is alternating between those two characters as
they interact, physically and in the dialog. But **almost*
always, the most effective way to tell a story is to tell it
from just one point of view, so the reader can really get
into that character's memory, and eyes, and ears --"
"-- and other appendages." Jon grabbed Morganstern's
hips, pulled in another inch. "Then if I wanted the reader
t' watch us from above, t' watch your back muscles working,
t' watch your butt pumping, pulling back, thrusting again,
then --"
"Well, you really can't do that and still hold *this*
story together. You **could* go back and rewrite the
beginning so that I look up at a mirror on the ceiling over
the bed and watch you humping away on top of my muscular
self, but that's about it. Having me remember **now* what I
saw **then* doesn't work at all -- you didn't **have* a
mirror on the ceiling, because if you **had,* I would have
noticed it **then* -- and so would the reader, who is
supposed to be me throught this story.
"A minor suggestion is to avoid having characters with
**names* that sound or look too much alike: `Joe' and `Moe,'
for example, or even `Danny' and `Dennis,' unless they
happen to be interchangeable twins and you want to emphasize
how much alike they are. With our names -- `Morganstern' has
three syllables, while `Jon' has one. Our names don't start
with the same letter. They don't even rhyme. So, there's
less chance to confuse the reader." Morganstern eased
himself deeper. "There -- all the way in. Are you still --"
"Billy!" yelped Jon.
" `Billy'? That would work -- two syllables, doesn't
rhyme with either --"
"I don't mean Billy, a two-syllable name that doesn't
rhyme; I mean Billy, my kid brother, who just came in
through the hall door I forgot t' lock."
Morganstern jerked his head around, looked back over
his shoulder, saw a sturdy young blond stride towards the
bureau, shedding clothes along the way. "Don't worry, dude,"
Billy said as he finished stripping and reached into the
bureau. "I'm at that in-between age: old enough to vote, too
young to buy beer, so even though I look like a kid, I'm not
jail-bait."
**So that's why Jon has that size on hand,* Morganstern
told himself as Billy stiffened up, pulled on an `extra
large,' and climbed onto the bed.
Jon said, "Billy, this is Morganstern. Morganstern,
Billy."
"And," Billy said as he knelt astride Morganstern's
thighs and found his target, "since I've got you sandwiched
'tween me and Jon, this doesn't count as incest either." He
slid himself half-way into Morganstern, paused for
Morganstern to catch his breath, then completed his impaling
thrust.
Morganstern felt a beardless chin snuggle against his
neck, caught a whiff of something spicy. "Mouthwash?" he
asked.
"Stuff I put on my hair," Billy said, tightening his
grip on Morganstern's chest.
Morganstern, now spitted to the hilt and stretched
tight, rammed himself all the way into Jon.
Jon gasped, then said, "Billy?"
"Yeah?"
"He's an `extra large' too."
"He is?" Billy pulled back a couple of inches,
carefully slid in again.
"Sure am," said Morganstern. "Jon's a nice fit; good
and tight, and the way he's squirming now . . ."
"You'd squirm too," panted Jon, "if you had this
muscle-boy plugged into you."
Morganstern felt Billy pull back and then ram himself
in all the way, heard Billy eagerly say, "Hey dude, that
sounds great! After we finish this round, let's swap around;
me on the bottom; Jon, you on top; Morganstern, you in the
middle again. I gotta find out how tight this big muscle-
dude'll feel inside me."
"Before we do that," said Jon, breathing hard, "there's
a mirror I bought yesterday. Now that's there's three of us
here, we can mount it on the ceiling, right over the bed.
Morganstern, if it'll keep you from going off too soon, how
'bout explaining t' Billy why we can't just look down on the
scene from up there."
"You **can* tell a story that way," said Morganstern,
now comfortably sandwiched between the blond brothers' warm,
naked bodies. "It's just -- usually -- more effective to
pick one point of view, and then let the reader **be* that
character all the way through a story to the end. And come
on, why would **any*body want to wiggle out from between you
two hunky studs and go flitting, like a bat, up amongst the
cobwebs? Instead, I've got Billy's chest against my back,
and Jon squirming underneath, and I'm feeling Billy inside
me and feeling me poking around inside Jon, and all three of
us -- oops!"
Morganstern heard Jon ask, "You getting turned on?"
"Yeah." Morganstern felt himself fast coming to a boil
as he thrust harder, faster, harder still.
As Billy speeded his own stroke, he said into
Morganstern's ear, "I'll try and catch up."
Seconds later, Morganstern felt his muscles tighten.
Another stroke, and he went rigid. Billy thrust a few times
more, then went rigid too while he and Morganstern pumped
out their loads.
And still later: long, delicious minutes later,
Morganstern slowly relaxed, still catching his breath.
"Convinced?"
"Convinced," said Jon, from under Morganstern.
"Beats cobwebs any day," said Billy, his sweat-damp
body relaxing on Morganstern's back. "You did seem to be
laying it on a bit thick -- `Morganstern heard this,' . . .
`Morganstern felt that,' . . . you know."
" `Merely corroborative detail, . . .' " said
Morganstern.
And Billy's voice joined Morganstern's as they recited,
" `. . . intended to give artistic verisimilitude . . .' "
And Billy, alone, finished the quote: " `. . . to an
otherwise bald and unconvincing narrative.' Poo-Bah, in
**The Mikado,* words by Sir William Schwenk Gilbert of the
team of Gilbert & Sullivan."
"If I laid it on thick enough for you to notice, then I
laid it on thick enough to distract the reader," Morganstern
said.
"Come on, dude; you had to lay it on to make your
point." Billy sat up. "I'll get the ladder; you two bring up
the mirror. By the time we get that thing up and mounted, we
oughta be reloaded and ready for another round. So: what
tools do we need, Jon?"
------------END------------?
