Share an excerpt from your work in progress

[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

 

[XerXesXu]

‘The one-child policy seems to load responsibility, unconscionably, upon the sole child.’

‘It is widely resented, but now, is partially relaxed.’

Nick, aware he might never see her again, smiled his charming smile. ‘You know, if I could only have one, I’d love a little girl … just like you.’

‘No. I am Chinese. I want a boy.’

Bloody Chinese.

They walked outside.

‘No need to wish me good luck, that’s understood.’ He turned and walked toward the Piccadilly line.

She watched him until he disappeared down the escalator.

 

[Bazzle]

The corners of her lips rose, her overly thick foundation makeup crinkled on her face as she slowly shook her head. There was a sighed breath. “No, it was just old age.” She pulled a cigarette from her pack on the arm of the chair. I dug into my pocket for my lighter. Gabriel shuffled forward in the chair and leaned towards me a little and nodded before she accepted my flame.

I am going darkside into the fetish again...

 

[Cagivagurl]

The air felt heavy, close, so sticky I could feel my silk blouse clinging.
Ominously, the vast black clouds gathered imposing there intent clear.
People scurried frantically around me, the sirens ringing loudly.
My heart pounded, as much from the anticipation as the dark fear.

 

[Djmac1031]

"____________________"

 

[GoldenMaia]

“emorhC fo lepahC.”
One mark at her hip, one lower, a perfect imprint from where he’d pinned her against the hood like a wrench he wasn’t done using.

 

[VallesMarineris]

Okay, I can't resist. These lines appeared out of the blue as the beginning of a story I'm trying to figure out. They should probably be dumped into the "Kill all your darlings" scrap file, but they instantly capture my protagonist's flaws:

“You’re a fucking idiot!” I yelled at the top of my lungs and stormed out of the dean’s office.

Pro tip: don’t tell the dean of a major university’s physics department that he’s a fucking idiot. Especially if he’s your dean.

 

[StillStunned]

From my WIP, an essay on editing:

So here you are. You’ve finished the draft of your story, novella or novel, and you can’t wait to upload it and see it published on Literotica. Watch the viewing numbers go up, wait for that first vote to come in – or the first ten, perhaps with that delicious red H that never gets old.

Of course you don’t submit it straight away. At the very least, you’ll run a spellchecker over it. Perhaps even use text-to-speech software such as Word’s Read Aloud function to catch the typos that your spellchecker misses. And then you submit it. Right?

Well, you can do that. But wouldn’t you rather take some time to make your story as good as you can, and give your readers the best possible reading experience? (If not, this is where you scroll to the end of this essay, leave a 5-star rating and a comment, and then read click on one of my more erotic works to have a wank.)

 

[Actingup]

Okay, I can't resist. These lines appeared out of the blue as the beginning of a story I'm trying to figure out. They should probably be dumped into the "Kill all your darlings" scrap file, but they instantly capture my protagonist's flaws:

Hmm… I feel that our hero needs to find themselves trapped in a sealed box together with a very annoyed cat at some point, to justify why the ‘physics’ bit is particularly bad.

 

[Mastered_again]

Maybe a bit longer than Emily's request, but we're here to break rules, right?

A quick scene from a new chapter of my Proclivities series:

George led the way, stopping at his objective. “How many limes should I get?”

“To be safe, four,” I suggested, wandering over ten feet to peruse a small selection of holiday flowers, contemplating if we should get some. Closer inspection revealed that something in each was past its prime. Oh well…

“George Richter!” I heard a woman’s husky voice shout.

I turned to see a full-figured woman with frosted blonde hair framing her round pudgy face. Large breasts tested the zipper’s integrity on her black quilted winter coat.

“I can’t believe it’s you,” she beamed. Her arms encircled George, who unsuccessfully juggled the fruit. While she found the bouncing limes amusing, George showed exasperation…or was it panic? I started towards them.

“Umm, hi,” was all he could muster, trapped as he was.

“Gosh, I’ve missed you,” she said boldly, then lowered her voice, but insufficiently to prevent my hearing, “and your big cock.”

“Kim,” George said with quiet determination, slipping from her clutches, “that was over a long time ago. I’ve moved on…As a matter of fact, you should meet my fiancée, Linda Higgins. Linda, this is Kim Williams.”

Oh, so this is the bitch he’d told me about the night we met. Cheated on him. Broke his heart. But what I couldn’t grasp was how he’d been attracted.

“George has told me so much about you,” I said, smiling sweetly, but we didn’t shake hands.

I ran my left hand through my hair as if to put an errant strand back in place, ensuring she got an eyeful of my engagement ring and a glance at my boobs, outlined by the sweater, my nipples still taught from the cold. Yup, that had the desired effect.

“Congratulations,” she replied sadly.

Was that a tear rising in one eye?

“Well, we have to get going,” George summarized as he hastily replenished the lime supply, eager for an extraction. “You know, check in at the hotel, get changed and be at my mom’s by five. It was good to see you. Give my best to your parents.”

As we turned to go, she grabbed George’s arm, spinning him back and said, “I am sorry.”

“It was your choice,” he countered coldly, removing her hand. “You made your bed. Lay in it.”

I couldn’t resist getting in her face with a frosty whisper, “So, where’s Tommy? Or did he leave for you for cheating on him as well?” No answer came, though her expression confirmed my assumption as tears trickled down her nose. “That’s something I would never do to George. And now…now, I’ve got the rock…and the cock.”

Leading us away, his arm looped in mine, he hissed as he pushed the tip of his index finger onto the back of my hand.

 

[Kumquatqueen]

I just submitted a rant about crap sex toys to Reviews and Essays.

it includes this sentence: *Imagine Mr Bean swinging a giant vibrating dildo in the air and silently cursing, and you get the general idea."

 

[lc69hunter]

from "Work Wife"

I tease her about having to put up with his shit all day (she spends more daylight hours with him than I do) and then sending him home to me for the pleasure. She basically says fuck you, and then we both giggle. She has become one of my closest friends.

 

[NuclearFairy]

From my WIP Orcs' Conundrum

With a suppressed sigh, Larry cautiously placed the forkful into her mouth and had to close her eyes as it took her back to her childhood. The pastry was softer, the meat more tender, and the vegetables were different, but still it was a meat pie, and it reminded her of when she would sit in the lap of one of her boys, safe and secure in his arms while the lot of them shared what they’d brought for lunch with the group.

 

[EmilyMiller]

"____________________"

Some of your best work…

 

[EmilyMiller]

Maybe a bit longer than Emily's request, but we're here to break rules, right?

 

[StillStunned]

Some of your best work…

It's a bit flat, but at least the storyline is clear.

 

[Mastered_again]

View attachment 2556132

Somebody need a spanking?

 

[dream_yahoozie]

Another silence. Alyssa sat and thought about the revelation she was just told. "Grandma, you make porn?"

Almost beaming, she replied. "Not only do I direct and produce adult films. I also star in them sometimes."

 

[Djmac1031]

Some of your best work…

So what's that say about you as my proof reader...?

 

[EmilyMiller]

So what's that say about you as my proof reader...?

That I have an easy job?

 

[TheGreatOz]

***
She wants to tell me something. Whatever it is, it's not easy for her to say.

We don't really talk about what we do. We just do it, and otherwise get on with our lives. She's certainly not one to discuss such matters.

“David… your father was my first, my only man. He was gentle, he was kind.”

Where are you going with this mother? What are you trying to tell me?

“He… was… he… we didn't do different things. He was… respectful.”

Was it missionary once a week mother with the lights off? Is that how you came to me so inexperienced?

There's more.

“I never finished…”

Your sentence?

“Only with my thing.”

Ah… I think I'm starting to understand.

“You never came before me except with your thing, is that what you're saying?”

She nods.

Maybe it's easier for her if I just ask questions.

“You had lewd thoughts when you used your thing?”

Nod.

“About a man?

“Yes.”

“Which man?”

“I don't know. Just a man.”

“In your thoughts he made you do things?”

Nod.

“He put it in your mouth this man?

Nod.

“Did he put it in your bottom?”

She looks away.

“Yes. He was… mean like you.”

“And that is what you needed to cum… err finish.., is that what you're telling me?”

She nods. There's something else, something more. I see it in her face.

“A whore should be humbled,” she says quietly.

She's really embarrassed now.

“I'll make us some lunch David!”

She scurries off red-faced. I guess the conversation is over.

A whore should be humbled. That was the only verbal key my mother ever gave me about how to treat her.

We never spoke about this again. She had said what she wanted to say and the rest was up to me.

Humbled you will be mother.

***

 

[NivKay]

“You may ask for one thing,” she said. “It may be simple; it must be precise.”

He nodded, startled by how many imprecise desires had been masquerading as appetites. “Tell me to do something that will feel ridiculous, and then make it necessary.”

“Remove your watch,” she said, “and slide it across the table to me.”

He unbuckled the leather, the domestic noise of a tiny task performed well. The watch lay between them with its face turned up, honest as a witness. She did not touch it.

“You will leave without it,” she said. “Tomorrow at noon you will come back and claim it. Until then, look at your wrist when you need me. The absence will be as accurate as my presence.”

He stared at the unadorned skin. The pale band looked like a passport photo he suddenly believed. He nodded again, without theatricality.

“Drink,” she said, and he took a sip of water. “Now another sentence. Say, ‘I am not small when I obey.’”

He hesitated, which she allowed, because hesitation is the last dignity of pride. Then he said it. The conservatory took note. Leaves ceased their nervousness and settled into the rain.

“Again,” she said.

“I am not small when I obey.”

“Again.”

This time he smiled with his whole mouth, not because the sentence had become easy, but because it had become true.

She shifted, finally, and the faintest perfume of something green moved between them. “If I wanted to touch you,” she said, “you would know. But this is a night for speech. Put your hands in your lap. Lower your head and then lift it slowly. Good. You take instruction cleanly. That is attractive.”

“I like being attractive to you,” he said, the admission bright as steel.

“You are,” she answered. “Because you know how to make a promise and then be your promise. It saves me work.” Her voice thinned again to a ribbon. “When you stand to leave, you will feel unsteady. That is ordinary. Do not dramatize it with metaphor. Walk to the door, open it, and go. If you wish to return for the watch, do so without apology.”

He nodded. The room seemed to stretch on its tiptoes to see whether he would need to be told every small thing. He did not. Some obedience is muscle-memory; some is a future trying on its clothes.

“Before you go,” she said, “one more fact. Tell me what I’ve taken from you.”

“Permission to be exact,” he said.

“And what I’ve given?”

“Edges,” he said. “Tasks. A memory that behaves.”

“Good,” she said, and her smile moved through him like clean weather.

He stood then, because she had not said “stand” but standing was the correct reading of the moment. He felt the unweight of his wrist like an honest verdict. The rain had softened. The city remembered itself beyond the glass. The watch lay on the table like a small, patient moon.

“Thank you,” he said, because gratitude, when precise, is not servile but sovereign.

“You’re welcome,” she said. “Go.”

He went. The door reassumed its function. The conservatory collected his departure and filed it with the other weather. Outside, his step squared itself to the pavement; his hands discovered uses for their honesty. He did not look back through the glass. He did not need to.

 

[iwatchus]

From my novel (again). The two MC like to tell collaborative stories, where they alternate paragraphs. It's fun for me to write quick, mindless strokers embedded in the book. This excerpt starts a few paragraphs into a beach story, with Matt's turn coming first. Yes the characters in the novel, Matt and Angie, use their own names in the stories they tell.

“The kissing is becoming desperate. Matt's lusting after Angie’s luscious breasts, barely contained by her tiny top. He gropes a breast, pawing at it through the thin cloth. But that's not enough for his desires. He pushes the fabric up over her breast, exposing her full melon to his eyes. Angie cries, ‘We are in a public place.’ Matt says, ‘There's no one here to see. But does this excite you, the possibility that someone might see you?’”

I grin at her. She's starting to squirm. I recognize this look, she's getting seriously horny. This may be a fun way to explore what turns her on.

“‘Yes it does,’ Angie replies in a hoarse whisper. ‘But I could just run away if someone came.’ ‘We can fix that,’ Matt says. He pulls her top all the way off and loops it over a nail high on the post. He lifts her arms and ties her hands together with the bra hanging down from the nail. Angie has to stand on tip toes. Each wave rolling by threatens to knock her off her balance.”

Wow. She took this one more aggressively than I expected. She may have an exhibitionist streak in her. I already know she likes being tied up. I guess being tied up naked where someone could see her frees her of any guilt about that, too.

“Matt looks at the beautiful Angie, looking like a virgin offering for the kraken. But he knows all too well that she's no virgin. More a wanton sex fiend. A siren that Matt cannot resist. He buries his face in her bosoms, sucking on one teat then the other. There's no gentleness in his actions. He's biting and pinching her mercilessly. But this seems to be what she wants, what she's craving. Her whimpers expose her true self, as the animal desire rises in her loins.”

The real Angie's squeezing her thighs together as she squirms. She's going to jump my bones any minute now.

“Matt reaches his hands down, squeezing her bottom, lifting her, giving her stretched body and tiring feet a momentary break. He caresses her buttocks, his fingers reaching down and around, finding her wetness. This is not the result of any wave. They've not reached that high. These are her own juices, another cry for the release she so badly needs.”

She looks at me. She pretty much told me what I'm supposed to do in the paragraph.

“Matt pushes the bottom off and lets it fall to the sand. She's stark naked, tied to the post on the beach. As he reaches a hand into her wet slit, he kisses her mouth roughly, forcefully. He finds her pleasure button and she yelps into his mouth. He brings his mouth back to a nipple while his fingers continue their devilish torture below. Her whimpers have become a howl as she reaches her first climax. Her howls are picked up by the winds and carried to ears unknown, perhaps only heard by the seagulls circling over head. Or maybe there is a couple listening, just out of sight.”

Angie's breathing heavily. She closes her eyes momentarily and takes a deep breath before adding her paragraph.

“Angie leans against the post, barely able to stand, but not allowed to do anything else. She's panting as she recovers from the powerful orgasm. Then she hears voices in the distance. ‘Matt, let me loose. Someone's coming,” she says, almost begging.”

She looks at me. That was a short paragraph, but she obviously wants me to make a choice here.

“Matt looks at her, the naked beauty tied to the pillar, and laughs. ‘The tide's coming in. Shortly it will be in far enough to float you up and off the nail. I will wait for you.’ Matt walks behind her, disappearing from her view. He hides behind a fallen piece of the old pier, out of sight of the approaching couple as well. They are a very attractive couple. He's well muscled and tanned. She's tall and slender with just enough curves, well accentuated by a skimpy black one piece. They see Angie tied to the post. ‘Do you need help?’ the woman asks.”

Her turn to make a choice.

 

[gunhilltrain]

The plot is that a younger guy is having an affair with an older woman. Often they use her car because her niece is living with her. (Yeah, he started out with the niece who doesn't know what is going on yet). On one of the aunt's nighttime forays with him:

****

I didn’t ask where she was going, because I knew she had worked it out already. In about a hundred yards, she turned right towards the tracks again. The car crunched along over old leaves and branches. Then she briefly turned her headlights on.

She said, “There they are.”

“I’ve been around here before, but I never noticed those things.”

It was a strange sight. A group of stone walls, each about ten feet high, were lined up end-to-end.

She killed the lights, then drove around the north end. She was on the side of the walls facing the tracks. Light from the road lamps on the other side gave us a chance to see each other, but each wall threw a shadow that covered the car. Behind about the fourth one, she stopped and turned off the engine.

-----

She said, "For our purposes, this is ideal for parking at night.”

******

They get away with it, but they have a bit of a scare at the end. This is set at a real location:

https://www.nycgovparks.org/parks/VanCortlandtPark/monuments/1540

 

[Candy_Kane54]

When I finished eating, I thanked Mom and took Steph up to my room. We both got on my bed after putting our purses and book bags on my dresser. As much as I just wanted to lie down and close my eyes, we had homework to do, so I sat up on the edge while Steph sprawled out on my bed. We began discussing what we’d been reading about the Sikh religion in our Comparative Religion class. I was fascinated about their belief in an immortal soul that reincarnated multiple times until whatever accumulated karmic debt was washed away through devotion and righteous living, allowing the soul to finally merge with God.

I mused, “I wonder if you would remember any previous lives if you did reincarnate?”

That was when Steph surprised me by saying, “I don’t know if this counts, but sometimes, when I’m dreaming, I think I’m living another life. I’m still me, but everything around me is different. There are palm trees and lovely beaches that seem to go on forever ....”

I looked over at Steph and saw a dreamy look on her face, her eyes closed as though she was reliving the experience. I waited for her to continue and she finally opened her eyes and came back into focus, smiled, and said, “However, you aren’t there so I’m glad when I wake up and I’m back here.”

“I’ve never had a dream like that,” I said. “Maybe, I’ve never had a previous life.”

Steph got a thoughtful look on her face before saying, “Well, maybe you don’t need to reincarnate.”

“Oh? Are you saying I got it right the first time?” I asked, grinning at her.

“Well, you seem pretty perfect to me,” Steph said, a smile breaking across her freckled face.