Bringing an obsession into the light of day

[QuietBloke]

I have, what many would consider to be, an unhealthy emotional attachment to my ex. For some reason I am seemingly unable to completely let go of her. We seperated 8 years ago (and I have had other partners since then) but that 'first love' syndrome as it were has me strongly in its grasp.

In order to try and do something about all of what still floats around inside my head I've decided (after a great deal of consideration) to get it out onto something more tangible.

Many years ago I asked one of the other writers here to do some of that for me, I shant repeat the name and story here as I havent asked his permission to relay as such (though I might at some point) and to some degree that helped, but now I wish to pen for myself some of what still resides.

So I am appealing for help from yourselves as a community - I have the concepts and the imagery, but I lack the artistic/prosaic ability to, aah, flesh it out, as it were and would dearly love a more experienced writer or two who had the time to get in touch so that I can rattle through what I have with them in order to turn it into a more enjoyable read for everyone else.

I can post a concept or two here, if that will help anyone get a better gist of what I'm thinking?

QG.

 

[DeeZire]

Your post was an enjoyable read. Why not just write it yourself? You could start small. Not every story has to be 30,000 words. Read Ogg's 'How-To' entry about flashfic to get an idea on economy of words.

When you finish writing a section, try reading it out loud. That will bring to light any issues with awkward grammar or stilted language.

When you're done with your piece, hopefully, you'll be done with your 8-year hangover. However, if you let someone else do the writing for you, you'll always have that little bit lingering, that part the other writer missed.

Good luck. And keep in mind, if you stay stuck in the past, you'll never be able to embrace your future. The time comes when letting go will bring you infinitely more than holding on to what you lost. We all lose important things in our lives, and then, guess what? We die.

I hope that cheered you up.

 

[SemiColon]

I would be happy to help you. I think sometimes it is easier to work on something with someone else, but as it is your story I think you'll find that you want to write/revise it a lot yourself in order to get it right- no one else will know if it's right or not. But I have been wanting to co-write something with someone so this could meet my needs as well.

I agree that sometimes writing helps me process something or get it out of my system. Firsts are always hard...I still think of mine and he's been dead for a few years and the last time I saw him I was 16 (we won't go into how many years ago that was). But I do understand, and also beleive that a truer, more deep and fulfilling love does wait for you in the future....

 

[tickledkitty]

Just judging from your post, I think you could write it yourself. I also think writing it yourself would be very cathartic. Much more so than having someone else write it for you. There's something about working it through and "putting it on paper" that's hard to explain.

You should try it. It doesn't have to be perfect.

 

[QuietBloke]

Its not so much that I want someone else to write it for me, I tried that before. More that I want someone I can bounce it off? Someone who can spot the flaws, fill the gaps. A combination of co-writer and editor rolled into one I would suppose.

QG.

The street we lived in was a pretty standard street in one of Scotlands few cities, it was nearing the end of the decade, and it felt like everything changed every week. We were both on break from university and had the summer to ourselves. We'd bought our flat not two months prior and had settled into a relative domestic bliss. Our street was a fairly quiet one, with one end being decidedly run down, the bottom flat being long since abandoned with broken windows and scorch marks from where some enterprising youths had decided to warm things up somewhat. We had gone into town to do some window shopping and had ended up buying all sorts of odds and ends (something about curtains I believe, what is it about woman and curtains?)

On the way home she remembered that we were almost out of milk so we stopped at the corner shop on our street, she says to me "I'll hold the bags if you can go in honey, I don't like the way the man in there always stares at me". Personally I've always liked the way people stared at her. She never counted herself as 'pretty', 5'1 or so with long gingery red hair, she got a lot of the usual abuse in high school. What stood out with her though was her cleavage, I recall she was a size 12, but dresses would never fit right, her bust was a D cup, oh how I loved those breasts. Today she'd come out wearing a grey wrap-around dress that came about halfway down her thighs that tied just under her breasts, giving them a bit of a lift.

Anyway, in I went to the shop, as I was passing in a couple of the local young teen boys were just leaving, I'd seen them around, usual types of kids you know? arrogant and bursting with hormones. So anyway, in I went to the shop, bought some milk and got distracted by the magazine shelf - we had a very open forum on all things sexual and regularly bought various sex mags so I browsed through and picked up a few we hadnt bought yet.

When I reached the counter and looked outside the window, what I saw was unexpected.

Now my girlfriend loved stories of women with younger men (and indeed, Literotica itself was a favoured stomping grounds in those early web days) or better, women with younger teens. Nothing outrageous you understand, but fourteen/fifteen always struck her libido hard.

As the shopkeeper was ringing up the goods I could see through the window the back of my girlfriends head and the three boys standing around her talking, I couldnt hear what they were saying mind you, but I figured I better get out there quickly, just in case. Handing over some cash, I picked up the bag and stepped outside. I guess at the sound of the door opening the boys scarpered.

I stepped in beside her and asked what the boys were saying, it wasnt till I looked down that I realised the dress had been pulled a bit, and now much more of her cleavage was on display.

Having fun were you dear?

No! I had bags in my hands didnt I! They did it! They pulled on my dress and would have started pawing me if you hadnt come out when you did!

I raised an eyebrow and smirked. So are you angry that I came out when I did, or that I didnt come out sooner?

She just growled a bit and stomped up the stairs, it wasnt till I was behind her coming up the stairs that I noticed she wasnt wearing any underwear, not that this was in of itself unusual, but as I thought about it, it meant that the boys could easily have been pawing at anything.

Once in the flat she was singularly quiet, so I set about putting the shopping away. She had a quick flick through the magazines I'd just bought but I could tell there was something on her mind.

As I was pottering around in the kitchen she came up behind me and started nuzzling into my side, "honey, you know those boys earlier?"

"uh huh"

"Well they play around in that abandoned flat along the way."

"uh huh"

"I liked it when they touched me"

"uh huh"

She reached a hand down and started stroking my cock through my trousers.

"I think they wanted to touch me more."

My heart speeded up a bit, "And would you like them to touch you more?"

Now some of our best sex started this way, we'd talk each other into a frenzy then go try to break the bed for a few hours. She always had a slightly submissive side though, and the light dawned on me that perhaps this was a new avenue she wanted to try. I raced through the options in my mind rapidly and came up with a plan.

"I think so"

I turned on her and pushed her against the kitchen wall, raising her up a bit, one leg hooked over my arm, I leant down and started to kiss her neck

"You'd like to feel all three of them touching you, feeling you, stroking your legs, your breasts"

My left hand lightly brushed over her lips and clit, my right hand took one of her breasts

"yeeess"

"They'd close in on you, their hot breath touching your skin, their tongues flicking over all of you"

I pulled the cloth of her dress aside and freed her breast from her bra, rolling and squeezing her nipple

"yeeesss"

I spent the next ten minutes working her into a frenzy, her dress was on the floor along with her bra. She was naked save for her boots. Then I stopped and backed off a step. She jumped at me intending for us to go to bed but I fended her off and picked up her dress, wrapped it around her loosely enough that it wouldnt really hide anything and walked her to the front door. She looked bewildered.

"What are you doing?"

"Go to them, see if they are there, I'll be watching you from our window." I pushed her out the door and closed it behind her. Putting my ear to the door I heard nothing for a few seconds then I heard her turn and run down the stairs.

I went to our window, opened it and leaned out to see her almost fly out of our stairwell and go running up the street, her dress had fallen open but she clearly didnt care - she practically dove into the stair of the abandoned flat.


QG.