What kicks you out of a story.

Dick snot?

Um... an admission - when I was nineteen, on our third date, I decided to give my boyfriend who is now my husband a blow job. It wasn't my first, but I'd already decided that he was a keeper so, unlike the others, I was going to let him come in my mouth. I thought I knew what to expect. I'd watched porn. I'd let him come, keep my lips sealed around his cock, slide him out of my mouth, show him the pool of semen and swallow. It might taste yuck but I really wanted to please him. Easy peasy. Trouble was, we'd been making out for nearly an hour and the blowie was the final part. He'd been teetering on the edge for a while. I hadn't anticipated how powerful his spurts would be. I gagged and two lines of semen shot out of my nose. Does that count as dick snot?

This deserves full story treatment. Titled "Dick Snot" of course. It can't kick somebody out of the story if it happens at the end.
 
Abby: It's snot.
Gibbs: It's not what?
Abby: It's snot!
Gibbs: What is it Abs?
Abby: It's snot.
 
1. "I used to have a recurring dream, a dream that I had killed my father. His corpse, with dead, sunken eyes and graveyard pallor, the autopsy stitches livid against his torso, would rise up from the mortuary slab and shuffle towards me, pointing an accusing finger. I would wake, sometimes crying out, always shaking with horror."

2. "I used to have a recurring dream that I killed my father. His corpse would rise up from the mortuary slab and shuffle towards me, pointing an accusing finger. I would wake shaking with horror."


If I read 2. first I wouldn't have a feeling anything was missing.

Which leads neatly on to another observation - most stories on Literotica are too long. But that's just my opinion.
Yeah but Hemingway would write:

“I dreamed I killed my father. More than once. It was bad.”

Em
 
Yeah but Hemingway would write:

“I dreamed I killed my father. More than once. It was bad.”

Em

And then I drank wine while I watched the bullfight and the people cheered when the bull snorted and gored the bullfighter. The bullfighter died with grace. It was good. Then I stood up and left the woman who sat next to me with her long black hair and I blew up a bridge in Spain and caught a large fish. Then I moved to Idaho.
 
I think Hemingway would write:

I dreamed about my father. In the morning I walked down to where the stream and river met and I drank wine and ate the bread left from dinner. You wish that some things were different, but nothing changes.
 
Last edited:
And then I drank wine while I watched the bullfight and the people cheered when the bull snorted and gored the bullfighter. The bullfighter died with grace. It was good. Then I stood up and left the woman who sat next to me with her long black hair and I blew up a bridge in Spain and caught a large fish. Then I moved to Idaho.
Now come on. I wrote some satire. No self-respecting “world’s greatest author” would write all that, surely? It’s too much 😂

Em
 
I think Hemingway would write:

I dreamed about my father. In the morning I walked down to where the stream and river met and I drank wine and ate the bread left from dinner. You wish that some things were different, but nothing changes.
You left out “it was a man’s breakfast, eaten in a manly way, by a man. Then I killed an animal in a manly way, and wiped its blood on my manly cheeks.”

Em
 
I agree with many of the reasons stated here. For example non-con, I like a little, but nothing too drastic. Just last night I read a story where a MIlf, her son and her sons' friends went to a nude beach. Obviously leading to the teenage boys drooling over her large breasts and attractive figure. Later, the milf engaged in a blow-bang with 3 of the boys, then fucking one, taking his virginity. I was really enjoying it, up until the bully of the Milf's son showed up and threatened her with blackmail unless she had sex with him and his 2 friends.

The story turned into a humiliating, forced type of story, which lead the milf to no longer having fun. Being essentially gang-raped in front of her son. I'm sure the ending had the Milf change perspective, but I didn't read it to the end to find out. No disrespect to anyone who likes that, nor the author, just killed my vibe is all.
 
Number three goes without saying, honestly. Even if we might not be reading to masturbate, like any other thing to read- it's for enjoyment. A story can be a gods damned masterpiece worthy of a Newberry Press award and talk show tour... but if it's scat or something else I don't like; I'm chuckin tha dueces.
Yeah. Why would anyone read a whole story about a thing that doesn't work for them? Unless it's to be a supportive editor. I don't think this thread is about that.
 
I’ve had betas ask me what pre-K is.

Then At Whorey’s Piers requires not just a knowledge of America, but of three specific locations on the South Jersey Shore and one particular Water Park. Not many of my countrymen and women got that. Surprising really.

But I have to in general admit to writing a lot of American fucks 😬.

Em
I read a LOT of stories by British Empire writers (Great Britain, Australia, NZ), and I thoroughly enjoy their casual comments about places and landscape etc. It's distracting if they explain them. On rare occasions I'll use Google maps to satisfy a particular curiousity, but I just like being enveloped by a different culture. It didn't matter that it took me years to figure out that a butty was a sandwich.
 
I agree with many of the reasons stated here. For example non-con, I like a little, but nothing too drastic. Just last night I read a story where a MIlf, her son and her sons' friends went to a nude beach. Obviously leading to the teenage boys drooling over her large breasts and attractive figure. Later, the milf engaged in a blow-bang with 3 of the boys, then fucking one, taking his virginity. I was really enjoying it, up until the bully of the Milf's son showed up and threatened her with blackmail unless she had sex with him and his 2 friends.

The story turned into a humiliating, forced type of story, which lead the milf to no longer having fun. Being essentially gang-raped in front of her son. I'm sure the ending had the Milf change perspective, but I didn't read it to the end to find out. No disrespect to anyone who likes that, nor the author, just killed my vibe is all.
yeah i like it the other way around. starts with a dubcon or even noncon vibe, but the dude gets a lil mini redemption arc at the same time as the girl gets into it, and by the time it's over you got like. them actually agreeing to things like human beings xD
i likened it to sour patch kids
 
I think Hemingway would write:

I dreamed about my father. In the morning I walked down to where the stream and river met and I drank wine and ate the bread left from dinner. You wish that some things were different, but nothing changes.

My name is Robert Jordan. You dreamed about my father. Prepare to die.
 
I read a LOT of stories by British Empire writers (Great Britain, Australia, NZ), and I thoroughly enjoy their casual comments about places and landscape etc. It's distracting if they explain them. On rare occasions I'll use Google maps to satisfy a particular curiousity, but I just like being enveloped by a different culture. It didn't matter that it took me years to figure out that a butty was a sandwich.
I like big butties and I cannot lie.
 
hate fucks are a thing.
Like I said, there is a sort of story where that kind of dialogue can work. None of the ones I've seen are it, though. It has to be deliberate.

What I keep seeing is more "accidental" - it's like, there are authors who think, for some reason, that "you're supposed to write that way" and so that's how their characters wind up talking, even though the characters aren't writing and they're not even in a setting or a scene where it makes any sense at all for anyone to unironically say it out loud.

You see why I dislike it? It's not about the phrase itself. It's about the way people shoehorn it into an implausible conversation because they can't seem to write stuff that doesn't sound like an anniversary card or a seventeenth century love note.
 
I’m with you. It’s meant to be porn, not incisive commentary on the human condition.

The issue is when you depart too far from reality. I try to make my occasional Sci-Fi stories at least self-consistent in universe.

If I want an MMC who is a sentient, levitating, telepathic, shape-shifting, horny octopus (and frankly who wouldn’t?) then I need some in-Universe rationale for his existence.

Em
Even the most outlandish shit should have some modicum of suspension of belief. It doesn't need to be complicated. You're octopus probably ate a radioactive human.
 
Okay, but you literally said no one talks that way which makes it unbelievable.

Unbelievable dialogue is a fine reason to back out of a story, your particular example happens to be a very real way of speaking, so not unbelievable at all.

If you had specified the use of the phrase as being unrealistic in specific situations, all's good. But you didn't. You said no one who talks like that exist. Last I checked, I sill have a pulse, pretty sure I exist.
No one talks the way these characters I'm objecting to are talking.
 
One probably odd thing I can't tolerate reading about is a smoking fetish. This is not a squick thing, exactly, but I have a tobacco allergy so I can't be around people who are smoking without getting congested sinuses, red and runny eyes, and so forth. Somehow or another, reading about smoking makes my brain conjure up the memory of the smell, which then usually triggers a psychosomatic response for some fucking reason. I'll start coughing and wheezing and sometimes tear up. It typically only lasts for a few minutes, but I take it as evidence that my brain secretly hates me.
Seconded. I'm not allergic, in fact I have the highest tolerance for cigarette smoke of any non-smoker I know, but there just isn't anything sexy about watching someone kill herself slowly.

I remember one time in grad school, I was just arriving in the enclosed courtyard of my dorm on a rainy day - such a relief to get out of the rain! - and in the doorway I saw a very attractive young woman who appeared to be buttoning up her coat. She looked beautiful in the glow of the vestibule light...only when I got closer, I realized she wasn't buttoning up her coat, she was lighting a cigarette. All my adoration vanished as if with a snap of the fingers.
 
I remember one time in grad school, I was just arriving in the enclosed courtyard of my dorm on a rainy day - such a relief to get out of the rain! - and in the doorway I saw a very attractive young woman who appeared to be buttoning up her coat. She looked beautiful in the glow of the vestibule light...only when I got closer, I realized she wasn't buttoning up her coat, she was lighting a cigarette. All my adoration vanished as if with a snap of the fingers.
I've had similar reactions. Seeing someone smoking turns off any attraction instantly. Saying this as a former smoker, it's a dirty, smelly, disgusting addiction.
 
"Snot?"

"It's SnAUGHt, but yeah."

I can't hear the difference, unless it's pronounced "Snaft" or something.

This is a perfect example of the COT-CAUGHT merger. Originally separate vowel sounds (which remain distinct in many dialects) have merged into one phoneme in some dialects, particularly Western US and Canadian, so that certain words have become homophones for those speakers. Two decades ago it was estimated that about 40% of US speakers had lost the distinction; it's probably a bit higher today.
 
This is a perfect example of the COT-CAUGHT merger. Originally separate vowel sounds (which remain distinct in many dialects) have merged into one phoneme in some dialects, particularly Western US and Canadian, so that certain words have become homophones for those speakers. Two decades ago it was estimated that about 40% of US speakers had lost the distinction; it's probably a bit higher today.
I teach English to adults of various non-English speaking countries, with a large focus on Poles, and you should hear what they do with 'count' ;)
 
Back
Top