How Gritty Will You Get?

NOIRTRASH

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Aug 22, 2015
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In my last story ever I go for the gritty gold. The prose is as racist, misogynist, and homeopathic as I can make it.

Some of the writing goes, "Are you kidding? H e doesn't want me, he wants to be me. The only time he gets it up with me is when I stick my finger up his ass."

"I wasn't hired to snoop on you ma'am,, Rocky hired me to keep an eye out on your black friends and the silver spoons." and "Rocky said he don't give a shit how many black snakes you pet and kiss, but he don't want you dragging home any bad habits he's gotta feed."

"Leroy makes his money selling moneky chow. All these rich white girls come to play with his black snake, and then he sends them home with a monkey they gotta feed, and his monkey chow aint cheap."

Lots more offensive stuff.
 
Pete Dexter writes scenes as violent as Cormac McCarthy's stuff, and I need to do some violent scenes, too. Like I needed a reason for the principal character to wanna kill another character. It all starts when a thug beats up a hooker when she swallows his load and then puts her tongue in his mouth. He goes nuts on her. She gets the PC to kick the thugs ass. And things escalate to war.
 
My story Steampunk Harlots highest rated chapters involved WW1 level Trench Warfare. So I am going to say, pretty damn gritty.
 
I like gritty now and then. A very few of my stories get down into the gritty here and there. This was one of the scenes I still like best. This was from the last chapter of "Hayley's Party." Got a lot more planned for Hayley :D

I glanced past him at my Dad. Raised an eyebrow. Macho man caught that.

"Daddy can't do shit for you little girl." He sounded like he was having a good time. One of his hands snaked out and grabbed one of my breasts. He squeezed. Hard. Now he really looked like he was enjoying himself. I guess some people just get off on terrorizing eighteen year old girls.

He didn't see my Dad nod, very slightly.

Just as macho man started to squeeze hard, I screamed at the top of my voice. Pain, anguish, outrage. The entire restaurant looked. The entire restaurant saw macho-man assaulting a pretty little Chinese girl, mauling her sweet innocent little breasts. Nobody saw my Vipertek jammed hard against his denim-covered scrotum as I triggered 53,000,000 volts through his balls and dick.

He spasmed as I held it there. He was trying to scream I could tell, but he couldn't. His fingers relaxed their grip but he couldn't move. I kept screaming though, all eyes on me. Horrified eyes all across the restaurant taking in what he was so obviously doing to me.

Somehow I doubted he was going to be able to move for at least a couple of seconds. He would though, he was a tough guy. But two seconds, that was way more than enough. That was far more than I needed.

I was already completely centered and in the moment. I had been from the moment they'd arrived at our table. My scream echoed through the restaurant. My other hand dropped the chopsticks, drew back down to the seat of my chair, my hand forming a fist, one knuckle slightly protruding. I punched upwards, straight into his larynx, my mind drawing a picture of my fist going straight through his throat and out the other side, as hard as I could, coming to my feet, my chair crashing backwards as I put my body into it. It's a blow that can crush a man's windpipe. Which was what I intended.

A guy doesn't squeeze my breasts without my permission.

Not unless he's out on a date with me.

Our bodies were so close that only our table saw the blow. Everybody else saw a screaming girl frantically attempting to escape a brutal assault. Macho man started to choke, his airflow more or less cut although I hadn't hit him quite right. Tasered or not, he'd tried to dodge that blow. I'd struck slightly off target, not quite completely crushing his larynx. I had to finish this fast.

I grabbed his braid and his head with both hands and crashed his face into the table, hard. As hard as I could, putting every ounce of my strength into it. Once, twice, three times and a fourth on the edge of the table for luck and to break his teeth. His nose spurted blood. Bits of teeth sprayed outwards. The restaurant was in total chaos, guests standing, women screaming, children crying, Old Freddie's waiters trying to force their way through to us.

Only those nearby could see what was happening to macho man's head. Lucky the table was solid. Shame about the tablecloth and the china and the food going everywhere. As he went down to the floor, I kneed him as hard as I could in the ribs, feeling a couple of them crunch. Good. As he hit the floor and bounced I kicked him in the jaw. I felt it break. He was going to have one hell of a dental bill. His ribs were going to need a bit of work too.

Looking down at him, I shrugged. "Daddy doesn't need to do shit for me, asshole."

I was breathing hard though.
 
Sandpaper has no place in erotica. :D

And I guess this is fundamental to my question as I consider writing for the site. Is Lit simply a replacement for the old school "letter's" magazines (Penthouse Forum, Variations, Family Letters, etc.) or is there a place on the site for stories into which erotica has a role?
 
My latest starts with a purse snatch that leads to a sexual relationship between the hero and the victim.
 
And I guess this is fundamental to my question as I consider writing for the site. Is Lit simply a replacement for the old school "letter's" magazines (Penthouse Forum, Variations, Family Letters, etc.) or is there a place on the site for stories into which erotica has a role?

I will assume you are serious as you are new, but have to wonder about a few things...

Anyhoo, yes, there are some fantastic stories here, not just variations on a stroker theme.
 
I will assume you are serious as you are new, but have to wonder about a few things...

Anyhoo, yes, there are some fantastic stories here, not just variations on a stroker theme.

You know what they say about assuming. Neither a new face nor a low post count should be an indicator of how long I've been here, as either a lurker or an active participant.

But yes, I asked the question seriously. Thanks for your response.
 
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I'm in love.

My love is a girl who writes the worst garbage about black people. The writing is Chester Himes on crack.

She's pretty, too, and I rarely find black women attractive.
 
I like gritty now and then. A very few of my stories get down into the gritty here and there. This was one of the scenes I still like best. This was from the last chapter of "Hayley's Party."

Dang, that's some seriously well-written prose, and the scene is right out of an action movie. Awesome! I'll have to check out more of your stuff.
 
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