The Art of Getting Lit Laid

Damn You

Damn you. Why have you ghosted me?
I waited like an idiot, watching the clock make a slow, petty show of every second.
I imagined your hands - where they would rest, how they would find me - the little, familiar map of you across my skin.
I pictured your breath, soft at the nape of my neck, the way your voice would slide into the dark and make the world tilt.
I rehearsed the small betrayals you’d forgive me for: stealing the last slice, stealing the covers, stealing one more minute.

And then - nothing.
No message, no whisper, no trespass of warmth against my arm.
Are you with someone else tonight? Is that your excuse, you charming ghost?
Don’t you dare blame it on my coffee - I had it this morning, so you better show up now.

I kept calling you in my head, writing love letters on the inside of my eyelids, sending urgent, useless prayers into the sky.

I’m furious and breathless and wild with the want of you.
You promised me rendezvous at midnight and instead you stood me up in the dark.

Damn you, Sleep. You cruel, elusive lover.

P.S. If I keep posting like this, someone please knock me out… preferably in a delicious way.
P.P.S. Also - tuck me in? Or at least send me a fake text from “him” so I can stop drafting sonnets to the void.
I usually have zero sleep issues and if I could I would share my good sleep fortune
 
The Ghost

She is presence in vapor: sharp, bright, then gone.
Not a betrayal exactly - more a pattern of permission withheld.
She hovers at the edge of real, offering fragments, never fullness.

She teaches you a strange lesson:
how to hold warmth without claiming fire,
how to grieve someone who was never truly yours to begin with.
You practice the ache of missing,
even as you know she was never here to stay.

Her nearness feels like a haunting.
A whisper of skin, a half-answered message,
an echo you keep chasing through corridors that only lead to silence.
You cannot anchor vapor. You cannot catch smoke.
But still, you try.

And so the lesson settles in your chest:
that grief can belong even to the almosts.
That absence can shape you as much as presence.
But it leaves you with one question burning in the hollow:
is it worth loving someone who is only ever a ghost,
and can never be yours?
 
The Ghost

She is presence in vapor: sharp, bright, then gone.
Not a betrayal exactly - more a pattern of permission withheld.
She hovers at the edge of real, offering fragments, never fullness.

She teaches you a strange lesson:
how to hold warmth without claiming fire,
how to grieve someone who was never truly yours to begin with.
You practice the ache of missing,
even as you know she was never here to stay.

Her nearness feels like a haunting.
A whisper of skin, a half-answered message,
an echo you keep chasing through corridors that only lead to silence.
You cannot anchor vapor. You cannot catch smoke.
But still, you try.

And so the lesson settles in your chest:
that grief can belong even to the almosts.
That absence can shape you as much as presence.
But it leaves you with one question burning in the hollow:
is it worth loving someone who is only ever a ghost,
and can never be yours?
A metaphor of perceived Literotica relations perhaps?
 
The Ghost

She is presence in vapor: sharp, bright, then gone.
Not a betrayal exactly - more a pattern of permission withheld.
She hovers at the edge of real, offering fragments, never fullness.

She teaches you a strange lesson:
how to hold warmth without claiming fire,
how to grieve someone who was never truly yours to begin with.
You practice the ache of missing,
even as you know she was never here to stay.

Her nearness feels like a haunting.
A whisper of skin, a half-answered message,
an echo you keep chasing through corridors that only lead to silence.
You cannot anchor vapor. You cannot catch smoke.
But still, you try.

And so the lesson settles in your chest:
that grief can belong even to the almosts.
That absence can shape you as much as presence.
But it leaves you with one question burning in the hollow:
is it worth loving someone who is only ever a ghost,
and can never be yours?
I think it would be worth it, knowing going in, that an irl meet-up would never happen.

But the emotions of love can be fleeting and unpredictable. So there is always that chance you find yourself in too deep with someone who doesn't have the same idea about what the online relationship should be
 
I think it would be worth it, knowing going in, that an irl meet-up would never happen.

But the emotions of love can be fleeting and unpredictable. So there is always that chance you find yourself in too deep with someone who doesn't have the same idea about what the online relationship should be
Yes, indeed.
Sometimes you find yourself drawn to someone who doesn't want the same thing. Who will be there at times, but most often their presence will be fleeting. Sometimes the kindest act you can do for yourself is to let that person go, no matter how deeply you feel for them.
 
Yes, indeed.
Sometimes you find yourself drawn to someone who doesn't want the same thing. Who will be there at times, but most often their presence will be fleeting. Sometimes the kindest act you can do for yourself is to let that person go, no matter how deeply you feel for them.
1000%
Have gone through that process before and it is extremely hard
 
Goodbye

It’s such a small word for such a heavy thing.
Goodbye feels like a door closing softly, but echoing forever.
Sometimes it’s a mercy, other times a dagger.

We say it when love isn’t enough.
When silence grows louder than words.
When we can’t give what the other needs anymore,
or when holding on would only break us both.

We whisper it when we’re brave,
choke on it when we’re not,
and sometimes we pretend it doesn’t exist -
delaying it with a smile, a kiss, a silence.

But the truth is this:
every goodbye is really just love wearing grief’s clothes.

And the cruelest part?
One walks away lighter.
The other keeps bleeding from a wound no one else can see.
Goodbye doesn’t end the story -
it just proves one of us was never meant to stay.
 
Wit & Banter

There’s a special kind of thrill when you find someone who speaks your language.
Not just words - but the rhythm between them.
When every exchange feels like a duel and a dance at the same time.
A spark in the silence, a grin hidden in every line.

It isn’t just conversation - it’s play.
It’s teasing without touching,
a chess match laced with laughter,
a sparring session where both walk away grinning instead of bruised.

It’s the pleasure of knowing the other will catch the curveball,
swing back sharper,
and leave you craving the next round.

The pauses are loaded, the replies - reckless in just the right way.
It’s not about winning.
It’s about that sweet anticipation -
knowing they’ll come back with something clever,
something daring,
something that makes your pulse skip for reasons words can’t quite cover.

Because wit and banter aren’t just talk.
They’re foreplay for the mind.
And once you’ve tasted it,
ordinary conversation feels like silence.
 
The Ghost

She is presence in vapor: sharp, bright, then gone.
Not a betrayal exactly - more a pattern of permission withheld.
She hovers at the edge of real, offering fragments, never fullness.

She teaches you a strange lesson:
how to hold warmth without claiming fire,
how to grieve someone who was never truly yours to begin with.
You practice the ache of missing,
even as you know she was never here to stay.

Her nearness feels like a haunting.
A whisper of skin, a half-answered message,
an echo you keep chasing through corridors that only lead to silence.
You cannot anchor vapor. You cannot catch smoke.
But still, you try.

And so the lesson settles in your chest:
that grief can belong even to the almosts.
That absence can shape you as much as presence.
But it leaves you with one question burning in the hollow:
is it worth loving someone who is only ever a ghost,
and can never be yours?
Love can be real on Lit...even if you never meet in real life. Sure it isn't the "full" relationship that we understand it to be IRL but you can still be held. Enjoying the other person's company. Banter over who's the best cook. Feel cared for. And in return love.
 
The Weight of Our Words

Sometimes we forget that even here, where words are playthings, we can cause hurt.

Because words aren’t just play. They are also truth. They carry weight, they reveal what we feel, they strike where we don’t always aim.

Not the kind that leaves bruises on skin, but the kind that lingers in the heart - sharp, heavy, real.
A careless word. A promise not kept. A silence that feels like rejection.

And sometimes, we’re the guilty ones. Not because we wanted to wound, but because words are blades and we didn’t see how they cut. Or because we gave more than we could truly sustain. Or because, simply, we could not give enough of what the other person needed.

It doesn’t matter that this isn’t “real life.” The ache is real. The sting is real. The tears are real.

Here in Lit, we hold both truths:
We carry the pain others left us.
We carry the guilt of the pain we’ve caused.

Maybe the lesson is simple:
To tread softer.
To listen deeper.
To remember that behind every post is a human heart - fragile, hungry, beating.

And the dagger truth?
None of us leave without scars.
 
Climax Unlimited – Mischief Line
Because pleasure doesn’t have to make sense… it only has to sell out.

We’re building a new lineup, and this time it’s all about Mischief.
Yes, the products you never knew you needed, and can’t believe you want.
And because chaos is better when it’s crowdsourced, you’re invited to add yours.

Here’s where we’re starting:
  1. The Seduction Stress Chair – Sit on it and all your worries… bounce.
  2. The Ghoster Blocker – Sunglasses that let you spot who’s about to ghost you, so you can ghost them first. Revenge, made fashionable.
  3. The Orgasmic To-Do List – Cross something off, get rewarded. Productivity has never been this motivating.
  4. Stilettos of Sin – Every step makes the sound of a whip crack.
  5. Flirtation Glasses – Automatic wink mode. One blink = casual. Two blinks = come find me in the comments.
  6. Seduction Gloves – Touch-activated. Shake hands, and they immediately imagine you naked.
  7. Eau de Whatever Turns You On – Perfume that reads desires. Smell like fresh espresso with a coffee lover. Old books & rain for a poet. Mischief bottled.
Now it’s your turn:
What’s the next outrageous, irresistible item in our Mischief Line?
 
Oohhh, how about these:
8. The Drill-Do - Looks like a standard power drill; but instead of drill bits, it comes with specialized pleasure attachments (smooth, ribbed, curved)
9. Power Bang Bank - functions like a regular portable charger, juicing up your phone, laptop or tablet; each time you plug in, it gives you a personalized jolt of pleasure
10. Bluetooth Butt Plug - syncs with your playlist; may cause involuntary dancing
11. Swiss Seduction Knife - has all usual tools plus a hidden setting that undoes bras, opens wine and texts your crush
12. Remote Control Desires - One click to turn her on; two clicks to turn yourself on.
 
Oohhh, how about these:
8. The Drill-Do - Looks like a standard power drill; but instead of drill bits, it comes with specialized pleasure attachments (smooth, ribbed, curved)
9. Power Bang Bank - functions like a regular portable charger, juicing up your phone, laptop or tablet; each time you plug in, it gives you a personalized jolt of pleasure
10. Bluetooth Butt Plug - syncs with your playlist; may cause involuntary dancing
11. Swiss Seduction Knife - has all usual tools plus a hidden setting that undoes bras, opens wine and texts your crush
12. Remote Control Desires - One click to turn her on; two clicks to turn yourself on.
We're gonna need a bigger factory.
 
In the spirit of Harry Potter, how about some special confectionery?

Cumdrops--packed with protein

Sherbutt fizz--can be eaten or used in any convenient receptacle, guaranteed to blow your mind and everything else

Lickerish sticks--in all sizes
 
In the spirit of Harry Potter, how about some special confectionery?

Cumdrops--packed with protein

Sherbutt fizz--can be eaten or used in any convenient receptacle, guaranteed to blow your mind and everything else

Lickerish sticks--in all sizes
I never read or watched the Harry Potter stuff.

Same with LoTR

Saw og Avatar but couldn't sit through the 2nd one
 
Back
Top