Share an excerpt from your work in progress

[alohadave]

@StrentWriter - as it’s all in a quote, I have to reply by doing it manually.

So, this thing about one sentence up to a full paragraph… I kinda turned a blind eye before, but that’s rather long (as all men love to hear).

I didn't want to be the first to blatantly ignore the prompt, but I'm curious about more of the context.

“Hmm. That is a curious situation. How do you feel about it?”

“I’m mad at her! I never wanted to be her master, she’s my best friend. Why can’t we just be friends? Now I have to be in charge of her forever? It’s not fair. Why would she do that?”

“Son, sometimes people do things because they don’t know how to tell you how they feel, or that they’ll be rejected. And they think that if they do something crazy like this, it’ll make it easier.”

“Becky’s impulsive, but she never would have done something like this to hurt you or trap you.”

“That’s what I mean. I’m trapped now.”

“Listen, as much as you are hurt, she’s got it even worse. She made herself your slave, and her master rejected her. What's worse is that she literally cannot stop from being under your control.”

“Whether you like it or not, she is your responsibility now. She’s hurting right now, and she needs her master to guide her.”

 

[Dreamerman77]

From work in progress. A cop story set in 1970s;

'I looked at her, at the lie she still believed about him, like he had been the decorated, hard-luck cop. I thought of the evening when I’d ask the Old Man why he called her Holey. He had laughed, gulping his beer, and mumbled something about the quality control of prophylactics. ‘One fucking hole,’ he had said. Jesus. I had always thought it was because she was a blessing for them.'

 

[FrancesScott]

I’m pretty sure that progress implies I’m actually writing the thing as opposed to stuck. But from The Soldier’s Widow:

It was a bright morning. The sky was cerulean, and as unblemished as if some deity had scrubbed it clean in the night. Section 60 was already crowded, of course it was. As I stood in front of her grave, accumulating saline blurred the inscription, but I knew the words by heart.

 

[MrPixel]

"Uh huh. We're going to review what you missed on those multivariate continuity questions before I go down on you."

 

[Lifestyle66]

I write to LW and I'm always testing the waters on what might excite or irritate them. I usually start with a loving couple or at least two people who grow up in questionable homes but sexually grow together.

I playing with a new idea. I'll build a story around a guy who is born to a prostitute and raised on "the other side of the tracks". He sees sex as a commodity to be traded.

**********************************************************************
The fathers of those uptown school preppies came to our part of town to patronize the strip clubs and brothels when their wives or girlfriends wouldn’t put out! So, the people on our side of town lived in the real world, not some Disney fantasy. We grew up knowing where lay the real power, in the bedrooms!

Mom didn’t work at one of the brothels, … anymore. She had some regular callers at various times of the day or night.
***********************************************************************

It's a beginning.

Now I need to find the middle and end of the story. I'm thinking of using my upscale brothel from the Book club series, where he'll get with the wife of one of those HS preppies he hated.

 

[Actingup]

Second-last para of my WIP.

We didn’t know what was ahead, of course. You never do. But when I look at the photos, I make myself remember the good times as well as what was to come.The joy of each day, the pleasure of being together, the laughter that sat alongside the hard work and the pain.

 

[Areala-chan]

Erica always said she loved me, and I believed her. Even to this day, I believe she loved me. When we had sex, it wasn’t just fucking. I mean, you know, some of the time. The problem was, I didn’t just love her, I was in love with her, and that was something she didn’t reciprocate. Maybe even something she couldn’t reciprocate. And while that should have made me hate her, it ultimately left me feeling sorry for her. Even when she had it, she couldn’t recognize enough to know what she had. Even if all she had was me.

 

[Comshaw]

”I’ll take you to this place I know, out on the river. There ain’t many who go there. It’s a spirit place so we’ll have it all to ourselves. If you sit for a spell real quiet, the spirits will come and talk to you. My grandfather calls ‘em river voices. He says they’re the river spirits talkin’ to you. He took me there when I was 12 for a ceremony. Made me sit still until I heard ‘em before we did the rites. When I first heard ‘em they scared me, but after a bit I got the feeling they was trying to make me smile. Damnedest thing too. I sat there listening to ‘em and grinning like an idiot until grandfather gave me the rites and left me to seek my vision. Afterward when it was done I was kinda’ peaceful like.”


Comshaw

 

[Voboy]

But it was a legal problem, which meant another thick red cover sheet in the packet. I thumbed through the sheets again, skipping from one to the other, counting in my head: fifteen. Fifteen legal issues in this one case! My usual was about three. As a rule, Norbera didn’t send me out until they were sure about the legal side, and fifteen cover sheets was a red flag.

Well. Fifteen red flags. On card stock. Waiting to make my thumb stumble.

 

[SamBomb]

Part 2 of my Queen EJ series:


He smiled mischievously. "Then I close the wardrobe, do more magic shit, and you reappear!"

"That's fun," she tried to get out, but he cut her off.

"You reappear naked."

She turned completely red. "What? No fucking way! Tanner!"

Tanner hesitated, way too long, "Okay. Not naked, maybe that's too much."

"You think?"

"Fine. Just in your underwear, then."

 

[BiDave1962]

“Slow like molasses, baby,” said Roxanne. She pushed the head of her cock into that tight ring with precision. I could feel it enter from my place in Sarah’s other hole. I held her in my arms and kissed her neck, trying to help her through the pain. Eventually it eased, and with a sigh she began to enjoy this trans cock up her ass.

 

[EmilyMiller]

OK - gonna try to read / reply to each. But might be tomorrow

 

[NivKay]

OK - gonna try to read / reply to each. But might be tomorrow

There is no obligation..

 

[EmilyMiller]

There is no obligation..

I know. Just sometimes my ND gets the better of me (OK most of the time).

 

[NivKay]

Ok, another excerpt...

The silence held, full, aching, tender. It was the kind of hush that cradles the soul, where neither voice nor movement is needed because every breath, every heartbeat, every soft shift of fabric against skin speaks in a deeper tongue.

The fire had settled now, low and smouldering, its glow casting slow-moving shadows along the floor. Outside, a bird called once, lonely and tentative, then thought better of it. Even the world seemed to understand that inside this room, something delicate was still unfurling.

Niamh didn’t move. Her fingers, still threaded with Marella’s, curled just a little tighter. Just the sacred thrum of you are here, and I am with you.

And Marella—oh, she stilled like something blessed. She’d longed for the feel of Niamh against her, not for lust’s burn, but for this gentle melting. She could feel the weight Niamh carried, not just in her voice, or in the lines around her eyes, but in the very slope of her shoulders, the way her chest rose and fell with the burden of memory.

There was a quiet rhythm between them now. The thudding of hearts slowly syncing. The brush of skin where their knees touched. The softness of breath sliding over bare collarbones. They didn’t speak, but something was being spoken nonetheless.

Niamh exhaled, and her breath caught in the space just below Marella’s jaw. She closed her eyes again. There was something soothing in Marella’s stillness. A steadiness that wasn’t submission, but grace.

 

[RemoteShadeofGreen]

I inhale deeply trying to identify the herbs, but it's a complex scent, syrupy and heavy, with a hint of earth and moss. They call this incense The Blessing, but it's making my head spin and I don't know how I'm going to last more than ten minutes in this haze of smoke, let alone ask competent questions. Does it have this effect on everyone?

From the opening scene of a sci-fi/fantasy WIP.

 

[PapaRomantic]

From "County Fair," my entry into the 2025 Summer Lovin' contest.


“One more thing – when you smile, your eyes twinkle and your face lights up and you are really pretty! You should smile more! I know every time I see you from now on, I’m going to try to make you smile.”

She looked into my eyes with that beautiful smile on her face, and suddenly, she leaned in for a tight hug, which I returned to her.

As she hugged me, she whispered, “Rusty, nobody other than my family has ever called me beautiful before, and they are kind of obligated to.”

“That’s a shame, because it’s true, and you should hear it more often.”

She hugged me a little tighter and said, “Thank you, Rusty.”

 

[WaxPhilosophic]

Shamelessly plugging my own Born to Run author challenge with this one...

“Hello, lover,” said Tink, standing naked under the shower head, right in front of Wendy. A tribal tattoo adorned her right arm, twisting from shoulder to wrist, and matching barbells ran through the crinkled pink of her nipples. The gold of the piercings matched the yellow blonde of Tink’s pixie-cut hair. Both were sparkling.

Wendy from Peter Pan is living in New Jersey, as Wendy from Springsteen's Born to Run.

 

[alohadave]

Ok, another excerpt...

FYI, your profile link is not correct. Anyone that clicks on it will go to their own profile.

You should be linking to: https://www.literotica.com/authors/NivKay/works/stories

 

[NivKay]

FYI, your profile link is not correct. Anyone that clicks on it will go to their own profile.

You should be linking to: https://www.literotica.com/authors/NivKay/works/stories

Thanks for the heads up.. will correct that.. thank you!!

 

[ThatNewGuy]

She could feel the weight Niamh carried, not just in her voice, or in the lines around her eyes, but in the very slope of her shoulders, the way her chest rose and fell with the burden of memory.

Can you share a bit more about the context of this scene? Where is the room in which it takes place and how have they come to be there together? What is the unspoken weight that Niamh carries (that is, what memories are burdening her)?

 

[NivKay]

Can you share a bit more about the context of this scene? Where is the room in which it takes place and how have they come to be there together? What is the unspoken weight that Niamh carries (that is, what memories are burdening her)?

Hey there...its part of a longer story I'm still working on and still working out narrative arcs. This was the first scene I wrote, because when i charted the plot sequence, this was the pivot scene. So, I'll be working on time lines before and after this scene. The idea here is that Niamh has left her husband, and has run away with Dubhán (set in 493 CE in celtic Ireland. Dubhán, has a shady past, a modern day fix it guy - he deals in the relic trade, at a time when Monasteries in Ireland traded in relics as a way of pushing the Christianising effort and to kill off ancient Celtic and druid beliefs. Dubhán has killed for the money he gets to have relics safely delivered to the monks. But Niamh, a healer is slowly turning towards Christianity. She has fled her home, and to Dubhán, but she's only just discovered what he deals in. So there is guilt, shame, and the ethical and moral burden she must carry for her choices.

Meanwhile, Marella - long story...but she has found her way into this, as a lover of Dubhán. Niamh had no idea of Marella's presence. The old dog was two timin everyone...but a strange attrraction builsd between the two.

Sorry... a little muddled!

 

[StrentWriter]

@StrentWriter - as it’s all in a quote, I have to reply by doing it manually.

So, this thing about one sentence up to a full paragraph… I kinda turned a blind eye before, but that’s rather long (as all men love to hear).

Whoops. I’ll edit…

 

[Soixenta]

“Lightskirt!”

The word spat from a tall figure, silhouetted against the sky. Loud enough to be clear over the voice in my earbuds. Loud enough to convey the venom in the tone.

I took the buds from my ears and squinted again while my eyes adjusted. I saw a man, dressed in a dark suit, with mirrored sunglasses blanking his eyes. He was lean, verging on thin, with a bony face and large, bony hands.

“Lightskirt,” he spat again. “Temptress. She-devil.”

I’m rarely lost for words, but now I could only gape at him. He seemed to tower over me, even from five feet away, and made no move to come closer.

“He means the way you’re dressed.” Another voice, female, from the side. “As in, barely at all.”

- from my Summer Lovin' story "Lightskirt"

 

[HelenofTroy25]

Mr Fox finally spoke, “You say no and ask me to stop, but let’s evaluate your situation young lady. Here you are, bent over my desk with your buttocks in the air. Your slutty stockings are exposed for all to see, knickers around your ankles. Your anus is devouring a silver plated butt plug, and now your greedy little cunt is gripping my old cock like your life depends on it. You, Miss Honeywell are a slut, a wonderful wanton whore.”

A little extract above from chapter 5 of Helen’s adventures. Submitted and hopefully to be published soon. Anyone interested can check out chapter 1 below xx

https://www.literotica.com/s/helens-toy