A Lotus Pond

[Lotus_Maiden]

Do post. Do comment. Do say hi. Or simply just lurk and enjoy. This is my thread for anything and everything SRP and non-SRP related. Whatever I fancy ​

🏵🏵🏵

This is Maiden's pond -
To share good thoughts and teases.
This is where Lotus -

Finds inner muses,
Speaks deep desires, fantasies,
and all the sillies.

Be raunchy, lovely;
Respectful. Provoke our minds.
Recall memories.

Come, gents, fair maidens -
Have a swim. Enjoy yourself.
Take, leave an imprint.

Greetings​

 

[Lotus_Maiden]

Guess the character.

She was my first fandom-RP character. Do you know who she is?

Haven't find a chance to use her in a SRP setting. It would be very upperly-superly-duperly mind-boogling nice if I can find a writer who's verse in her world and take her for a test drive

Her bio-intro: She is a beautiful warrior with a sharp tongue and a deadly sword. There is a well-guarded mystique about her.

 

[TheWorldBuilder]

Did you ever discover who the mystery warrior was?

Just a curious thought that's not going anywhere, as I'm older than your upper boundary and you don't do RL to exchange plot developments.

 

[Lotus_Maiden]

Did you ever discover who the mystery warrior was?

Just a curious thought that's not going anywhere, as I'm older than your upper boundary and you don't do RL to exchange plot developments.

Yikes, 8 months late response, but it's better late than never ya?

Her name is Rose, aka Black Monster. She's from a late 90s game: Legend of Dragoons. She's a warrior from yesteryears. She's cursed with immortality where she must murders for the greater goods. Bottom line, she's smexxxy

 

[Lotus_Maiden]

Sky: Cloudy
Mood: Unmotivated
End Game: Stoic – Failed

Harry: We're the same age. We're motivated and go-getter type of people. He has a leg up (also a big brownie point) – he’s an amateur musician. He carries an ultimate "cockblock" – he has baggage, lots of them, like a wife, huge dependent siblings, and handful of children from current and past marriages. That is way too damn bad, too dramatic, too much headache, too many baggage! Though, it hasn't stop thoughts of him strumming my strings cross my mind a few times throughout the day.

Mickey: He’s daddy-age. Upside – he’s the boss. Downside – he is not the boss. He’s fit as hell. He can easily manhandle me, which is a huge turn on. Most of the time I see him as a fatherly figure. Now and then though, I can’t help but think about the what-ifs.

Pete: He is, or rather was very high on the I-wanna-fuck list. He's the epitome of a Chinese saying, a pig bares all it shits to see when it's on its back. In another word, he's a backstabbing ass. It backfired on him in the end. At the end of the day, I'm now his boss and he's scrambling to find another job. When I look at him, all I see is a pile of pathetic flesh who whines and bitches like, well, a donkey's ass. He's someone I can woman-handle; strip him down and tie him up with a gag-ball so I can teach him a lesson with paddle, whip, candlewax, and all.

Sunny: He’s an old fling a few years back. Unfortunately, he lets himself go. His appeal was his young (half a decade younger than me), tall and lanky with a runner stature. He dressed stylish, and put time in his appearance. Now, he just ... doesn't seem to care. His hair untrimmed. his skinny jeans are way too tight and shirts are baggy, not ironed, and a size too small or short. A silver lining is that if I ever in a desperate need, he’s readily available within a call.

TJ: Ah, he would have been a perfect one night stand! He’s a temporary hire. He lives far, far away. There wouldn’t be any string or any post-fuck hiccups. Damn! I should’ve and could've jumped his bone. Opportunity missed. Daamnn...

 

[Lotus_Maiden]

Sky: Cloudy
Mood: Uninspired
End Game: Stoic – Failed

Harry: We are both 36, give a take a few hours apart. He's much taller though. Then again, it's not hard for someone to be taller since I'm barely 5'2". Unlike Mickey who is barely a few inches taller, Harry is over a foot taller at 6'4".

Harry is decent built, between a runner and a weight lifter. He's not bony nor overtly muscular. He does have a slight beer gut like a dad's body in the making. For now, his little pudgy can be overlooked due to his personality. He’s smart, both book and common sense smarts, and a go-getter. He takes on workloads without being asked, volunteers to run stuff down, and eagers to learn more, know more, and do more. He’s a great asset to my team. He definitely helps out whenever and wherever he can. Wish all my subordinates are like him. Yes, I'm his boss.

Sounds like a short porno in the making right? Oh yea, the inappropriate thought. Why not, right?

The 'cockblock' is that he is married with kids. What a bummer, right? Yet ...

Today. Oh, today. He was intoxicating. We were less than a foot apart. He wore Davidoff’s Cool Waters; a mid to late 90s classic high school jockey’s go-to. Standing next to him, I drifted back to those heydays. The teenage years where hormones are high and every moving creature, from jocks to nerds to fresh out of college TAs, are fuckable. For a full minute, I consciously resisted to to him, perch on my toes, grab him by the collar, and kiss him.

Oh, Harry! I can't stop thinking about how your lips taste like. I wonder what your reaction would be. Would you kiss back after the initial shock? Would you sigh out loud as I nibble on your lips? Would you hold me closer as my fingernails trace across your neck?

Ah, the wondering thoughts... If only there were cameras and we were actors in a homemade porno short.

So cowardly, I opted to just glance over at him occasionally while we talked and assessed the week's performance trend. I smiled and nodded with a few aspiring and agreement on how well were doing. He had this huge, ear to ear grin on his face. He was truly excited with the trend and happily talked about better results for next week, and the next, the following ones, and so forth. Although he didn’t have a baby face, his energy, his optimism, his demeaner, and his overall outlook made me want to pinch his cheeks.

On the contrary, he has a very masculine sharp jaw line. He's clean shaven. He keeps the brown locks buzzed but not skinhead. I typically want to get lost in bright blues eyes. His though, I wouldn’t mind staring into those deep dark hazel eyes while I straddle on top his laps.

I wanted to grab his arms, wrap it around my back, and tell him, "Harry, fuck me here and now."

Mmm, those strong muscular arms. Although he wore long sleeves today, I know and could outline the dips and concaves of his muscles with my eyes. I’ve seen him rolled up the sleeves a few times when he helped moving boxes in the office. He was in a wife beater a couple days in a row because the office's AC was broken and the whole place was hot as hell.

Oh, to feel those strong tight muscles on his arms while he grabs onto my butt cheeks and bounces me up and down his cock. Mmm. To rest my forehead against his and lock eyes as my back arches and his cock nests deep and wide inside my pussy.

Mmm. Mmm. Mmmm.

Ah if only life is like a porn movie, where I can demand a quid-quo-pro. Some cunninlingus for the next big project. Ah, if only.

If only... If... only....

 

[Lotus_Maiden]

Sky: Clear
Mood: Excited
End Game: Stoic – Failed

Mickey: Ah, Mickey, how does it go? Oh yes, it's 'oh Mickey, you're so fine. You're so fine, you blow my mind. Hey Mickey!'

He is fine indeed. Strip down all that layers of cloths, he's a specimen to be hold. His biceps, his abs, his chest, mmm... It's too bad he doesn't or rather couldn't show off his bod at work. Though he knows he worked hard for the physique and does try to scream about it. He often showed me his workout sessions on IG. He also posted live streams that he knew very well that I, plus dozens of others, would watch every clip.

He knows. I know he knows that I appreciate and admire his body. How I know? He would shoulder-bump the side of my arm, and then would knead my arm gently while apologize, "I'm sorry about that. Did I hurt you too much?" Now and then again, he would say something stupid (my sense says on purpose), and then would apologize and offer, "Here, hit me. That was an uncalled for comment." He would grab my wrist and pat my hand on his bicep. He of course would flexed so I can feel how hard and well defined his muscle is.

Then we would be long boring ass meetings together, I would catch him staring at me with his bright flaring blue eyes and he would grin or wink. I would roll my eyes as if annoy, yet get tingly in my abdomen. If we would ever be alone and he would do that, I'm pretty sure I would jump on the conference table and crawl on my fours to him.

I also appreciate that he embraced baldness at 50. He keeps his head squeaky clean and shaved it all instead of a combover or a bad toupee. Bald suits him. He has a proportional and symmetric head-shape. It makes me wonder if his nether region is also appropriately proportion with a hand-width length, palm-wide girth, and a glistering head with droplets of pre-cum.

Mmm.

One day. Just one day I wonder if only I could sneak in under his desk, unbuckle his pants, pull down his whitey-tightey (he looks like a whitey-tightey kind a guy), and admire his erected member and clean shaven (he looks like one who would shave as well) balls.

I wonder if his cock could be as stone hard as his biceps. I wonder if his bulb-head is as smooth and symmetrical as his bald-head. I wonder if he would give the same eye roll that I gave him when I lick and taste his pre-cum. I wonder if he would run his fingers through my hair and grab my head as gently yet tightly as he does with my wrist. I wonder if he would force his cock deeper down my throat as I give him the lip service just as he led my hand to slap his arm. I wonder if he would still have that grin when he is close to his climax. I would if he would stare down at me with those bright blues while I suck and bump his shaft with my mouth and hand. I wonder if he would whisper or scream my name as he cum.

Ah, all these wonders...

I wonder if similar thoughts cross his mind. You know, he's my boss after all... It wouldn't be too far-fetch for him to propose a quid pro quo. I most definitely would give him a blowjob in exchange for cunnilingus or fingering or teasing my wet pussy lips with his shaft or flickering the tip of his head between my mounds or all the above.

Mmm. I wonder what his reaction would be if he could read my mind... I wonder if only he would put his foot down as boss and demand for sexual favors... I wonder if he would grab my wrist and insist on touching after I hesitate... I wonder if... Ah, all these wonders...

I wonder....

 

[Lotus_Maiden]

What is that one word best describe me the most?

Insanity - doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results.

In life, in how I treat others, on here even, in what I say, in how much faith I have in people,

...the day, the interaction, the life in repeat; yet I still expect, hope for a different ending, different response, different result. In the end, here I am... same me, same shit just on a different day.

Woe is me! Tis life. Tis me. A pendulum cycle.

Okay! I'm off the soap box.

So, what's your word?

 

[Obuzeti]

I don't typically like to intrude, but I have a pretty good inkling as to what that feels like. For a long time I touched down on this site in cycles; I'd make some tentative friends, because it's hard not to when you write well enough, and for a year or so I'd almost manage to feel like I'd belong. And then it'd be too much - a hell of a thing to say for a personal connection where no one even knew my name - and I'd be gone again.

I'm lucky enough the last time through to have made some real, genuine friends that I make best efforts to talk to every day. That's unspeakably rare - and worse, they're good people, and it's been a slow act of self-lapidary to be the same sort of folk I would feel privileged to know.

I don't know that I would have really considered myself a responsible adult five years ago - independent and well-spoken, certainly, but there's more moving parts to being a grown man than paying bills and reading the dictionary. I've been learning a lot about that.

All that's a long way around to saying: don't lose hope. You'll find good people.

My word is: pith. The spine and the marrow, the meat of the fruit, the heart of the matter. Sharp and precise, concise, succinct. I cut clear and true.

 

[Lotus_Maiden]

[...] almost manage to feel like I'd belong [...] it'd be too much[...] and I'd be gone [...]

This! Reading this is like looking at a mirror. Yes, you're right, I found and continue to find good genuine people both on here and in life. I'm definitely lucky in that regards.

Pith is fitting. There's an essence in everything and everyone, ya? The core of it all!

Anyways, now that you're here, hopr ya stay? Share a few. Or simple say nothing at all and just enjoy. Hope you're having a wonderful day.

 

[Obuzeti]

Ha, it's more like pith is one of those ancient, proto-Germanic words that got used for everything and has a half-dozen meanings because it got generalized and applied to different things. The core meaning of - well, core - hung around but got applied to different concepts.

Don't mind if I do. I tend to run my own section over at Class 920, but that's more for obtuse personal essays and writing treatises and other assorted flavors of bullshit. I'm not linking it to say you are required to read this, by the by. That'd be just asinine.

That said - SRP! Topic at hand.

I'm definitely a fantasy / sci-fi writer at heart, I love building worlds and cultures, strange places and people, the underpinnings of a universe at work. My best and favorite works are definitely with Ambrosia, Know When to Fold 'Em and Athwart History, which are a peek behind the curtain of the New Vegas: Fallout universe, and a dystopian superhero setting, respectively; Zohar, in long hibernation because as it turns out, main characters made of goo are gross; and a couple with Bluebird, kickass lady she is, that are on hold because she's super busy these days.

So that's my ambit, what I'm into. The question is then: what's your platonic ideal of a thread? Like, the conceptual core of something that would definitely hold your interest - not necessarily a plot thread, but the themes and rhythms that'd hold your heart captive?

I know you have an SRP but work with me here, I'm trying to get a discussion going.

 

[Lotus_Maiden]

I know you have an SRP but work with me here, I'm trying to get a discussion going.

⏸ pausex ya? To be continued...

 

[Lotus_Maiden]

A surprising fall;
From an emotional high,
crashing on low ground.

 

[WeaverofWorlds]

A surprising fall;
From an emotional high,
crashing on low ground.

A surprising fall;
Like a meteor, descending through the sky

From an emotional high,
A thousand stars, glittering like diamonds

crashing on low ground.
to a blanket of starless sky, a void within.


Sadly doesn't match the style, but I'm not too well versed in the poetic styles overall and fail at them generally speaking. Still, it's what my mind came up with, even if I feel like it doesn't capture the same imagery... alas, my poor skill shall do little more than contrast brilliant light once more.

 

[Lotus_Maiden]

[...] Sadly doesn't match the style, but I'm not too well versed in the poetic styles overall [...]

Five senses heightened;
Humble, a forbidden fruit.
You, radiate fresh air.

Well, hello! There's no style to match. Just write as you feel. It's like water in a pond, just flow and go with, well go with the flow. I'm just thrill that you found some inspiration to response.

Enjoy; have a wonderful day

 

[Lotus_Maiden]

Sky: Sunny
Mood: Reflective
End Game: Stoic – Failed

Mickey: Past couple months are a mixture of long ass roller coasters. I grinded through it… barely… maybe… well, actually not yet, this week isn’t over.

There is still this rare, very rare second chance to swoon Ralph Ho. Mickey gambled all of his friendship chips for this hand. I know he’s as confident that I will win the Ho’s account as am I. After all, I’ve done just that last week.

Last week, I presented my team’s proposal - an ambitious grandeur display of luxurious designs, over-worldly architectures, and top prestigious services for his soon-to break-ground casino resort in Macau. It will be a mini-city within the mini-city. The presentation execution was perfect. The plan was captivating and over the top of the top just like the Ho’s. He left impressed with a handshake promised us a signed contract by the end of the week.

I was ecstatic that my and the team’s hard work paid off. And boy, did I work my ass off for this project. This project not only will rack in the commission, but also an opportunity to travel to and from Macau. I’ll squeeze in a few holidays in other Asian countries and lively cities here and there; mixing work with pleasure right? I needed this project. I needed this break, to be away from this routine abyss.

Friday came, no contract. Mickey got a phone call from Ralph that he rescinded his decision. Fu! Fuck! Fuck! Fucccccck! Pete fucked it all up. What a prick – not going to focus on him though.

This is about Mickey; the leading man of the show. Oh, how magical that man is. His persuasive and determination levels are out of this world. I shouldn’t be expecting any less from a retired Army Ranger right? He, oh, that man, I just wanted grab him and plant kisses all over his smooth head when he called us all into the meeting room and said we have another shot with Ho. On top of that, he tore up Pete and ordered Pete to support this project as I see fit; as if Mickey had read my mind.

Then when he put his arm across my shoulder, pulled me close as both encouragement and a confident boost. In that split second, I melted into his side. Before I knew it, my hand grabbed his shirt around his abdomen. I felt his rock hard core… and the hardness between his legs against the side of my leg. I exhaled in both relieved and longing. Relieved that I’ve another shot with the project; longing for him to hold me closer.

Oh if only he could project all the things I want to do to him on that eight foot leather couch against the oak paneled wall.

I bet he would catch me easily if I jump onto him like a father cradling his precious daughter. My legs would wrap around him and hook behind him while he holds me up with my hand on my ass. I bet his kisses would be as affectionate and rough as mine. As toughly built and intimidating as he seems, I bet he would be gentle with his teeth as he grazes them across my nipples. Would he teases, flickering his tongue on my hardened areola, before he nibbles and suck on them. I bet he learned, no, he mastered a thing or two on pleasing and making women squirm with those few extra years he had over me.

Oh how easily it would be for him to pin me between the mahogany table and his body in the middle of the conference room. Oh to have him hike my skirt up to my hips. His thumb teases and rubs against the itsy bitsy winy triangle fabric until the fabric is soaked with my glistering juice and labia swollen. His fingers spread my aching lips between my legs apart, while the other hand guides and nests the tip of his cock in between my flesh.

Oh I wonder how much his cock would throb, how much heat it would emit, how hard it is, how much he want to push, and slip and slide inside me. Oh I wonder what it feels with is cock inside my tunnel, to have him bump in and out to his own rhythm, to rake my fingers across his back, to squeeze my legs around him, to … just to have him all to myself.

One day. Hopeful for that one day for just that; to have and to hold, to please and to have an erotic time with Mickey… Oh one day…

(Cheers, Ed )

 

[WeaverofWorlds]

Five senses heightened;
Humble, a forbidden fruit.
You, radiate fresh air.

I am a mess. A broken thing that cannot help but feel the world too clearly. Every moment is near painful torture, the clarity with which I can feel everything around me a curse. The mere touch of sunlight upon my skin is like fire, every breath a chill wind in my lungs. Every scent is a dagger within my nose, a crashing wave across my mind with every minute detail, so sharp I can taste it upon my tongue. Each blink of the eye brings a blinding vision, scorching my eyes, burning the last image only to replace it within moments. Five sense heightened, to the point I cannot stand it, cannot help it, wish only for it to end.

And then...

It is the scent first. A floral thing, a flower I cannot place, wafting through the air. The wave that was a thousand others becomes one, a single wave that becomes a field, calm and peaceful. Beauty appears, like a salve upon my burned eyes. What once was blinding is now only a dim contrast, a pale shadow at the smile only I can see. With a touch the fire in my skin is banished, the frost in my lungs warmed.

It is a breath of fresh air.

It is You.

My forbidden fruit.

My humble Goddess.

My Muse.

 

[Lotus_Maiden]

Within a blink, I lose my grounding.
Dream of a voice as I start falling.
Indulge myself in a sweet fragrance,
Savour your zest as I keep balance.
With each caress, my mind is losing.

 

[Fingerfuxs]

Just a few bytes to say , thank you for the lurking permission slip. What a nice little nest you are building.

 

[Lotus_Maiden]

It is a breath of fresh air.

You're adorably creative. It tickles me to pieces that you wonderfully expounded my snippets.

 

[Lotus_Maiden]

Just a few bytes to say , thank you for the lurking permission slip. What a nice little nest you are building.

Well, welcome, Mr. and Mrs. FF. Lurk away! Share a thought, drop a line whenever you fancy to.

 

[Lotus_Maiden]

When you fall too fast, too quick,
You lose your breath, your logic.
There's beauty in unruly affairs.
There's thrill in the beautiful nightmares.
A bittersweet ending is coming;
For now, lose control before landing.


----

And here is xxx.

 

[Fingerfuxs]

Well, welcome, Mr. and Mrs. FF. Lurk away! Share a thought, drop a line whenever you fancy to.

, thank you for the warm welcome.

 

[WeaverofWorlds]

Your praise, beautiful Lotus, is an honor. Hopefully my humble works continue to delight. In leeway of other work readily available, have a piece I did for a friend awhile ago.

---

She is broken.

She is shattered.

She is fractured.

Ten thousand pieces, ten thousand shards, scattered to the wind, leaving only a vessel spiderwebbed with cracks. Screaming into the void, twisting and turning in an endless dance. She cries out, searching for something, something that cannot be name, a whisper at the edge of understanding. A thousand slivers, finding rest in the grasp of another, only to turn to dust and scatter once more into the wind. Only to scream once more, only to search once more, for the next to grasp at the shards. It is mournful, it is raw, it is primal, a need for something to bring what has scattered back together. A search that ends always in disappointment, but for the taunting hope that maybe, just maybe, the next shall be different, the next will bring solace, the next will finally make her whole. Yet all she grasps is the numbing chill of the void, the seething dark of the world, threatening to engulf all that remains of her.

Yet she does not see what she truly is.

How can she understand?

She shies from the dark, not realizing the brilliance with which she lights the world.

She shivers from the cold, not realizing the warmth that others find within her presence.

The sun cannot see it's own light, blinded by it's own radiance.

The sun cannot feel it's own fire, defiant against the frost.

She cannot see that ten thousand shards are ten thousand stars.

She cannot understand that ten thousand stars are ten thousand pieces of herself, gifted to all those she has touched with her life. She is not an empty vessel, but a fountain of all that could be. She does not see the joy she inspires, the influence she wields. With but a smile, darkness is banished. With a word, tempers calm. Her light, even at its most dim, scatters the shadow of discontent, grants solace to beleaguered minds. Though she will never understand, she is a beacon, a lighthouse, a safe harbor in a storm wracked world.

She is fixed.

She is whole.

She is complete.

 

[Fingerfuxs]

Your praise, beautiful Lotus, is an honor. Hopefully my humble works continue to delight. In leeway of other work readily available, have a piece I did for a friend awhile ago.

---

She is broken.

She is shattered.

She is fractured.

Ten thousand pieces, ten thousand shards, scattered to the wind, leaving only a vessel spiderwebbed with cracks. Screaming into the void, twisting and turning in an endless dance. She cries out, searching for something, something that cannot be name, a whisper at the edge of understanding. A thousand slivers, finding rest in the grasp of another, only to turn to dust and scatter once more into the wind. Only to scream once more, only to search once more, for the next to grasp at the shards. It is mournful, it is raw, it is primal, a need for something to bring what has scattered back together. A search that ends always in disappointment, but for the taunting hope that maybe, just maybe, the next shall be different, the next will bring solace, the next will finally make her whole. Yet all she grasps is the numbing chill of the void, the seething dark of the world, threatening to engulf all that remains of her.

Yet she does not see what she truly is.

How can she understand?

She shies from the dark, not realizing the brilliance with which she lights the world.

She shivers from the cold, not realizing the warmth that others find within her presence.

The sun cannot see it's own light, blinded by it's own radiance.

The sun cannot feel it's own fire, defiant against the frost.

She cannot see that ten thousand shards are ten thousand stars.

She cannot understand that ten thousand stars are ten thousand pieces of herself, gifted to all those she has touched with her life. She is not an empty vessel, but a fountain of all that could be. She does not see the joy she inspires, the influence she wields. With but a smile, darkness is banished. With a word, tempers calm. Her light, even at its most dim, scatters the shadow of discontent, grants solace to beleaguered minds. Though she will never understand, she is a beacon, a lighthouse, a safe harbor in a storm wracked world.

She is fixed.

She is whole.

She is complete.

That’s pretty deep dude , I’d ask for a kiss after that much work