CharleyH
Curioser and curiouser
- Joined
- May 7, 2003
- Posts
- 16,771
Ok question 1: is this beginning sexy enough? If not - what do you think I need to add? I have fucking writers block!
Question 2: can I as story teller semi-lie to reader? Go from what I wanted to happen as protag, tell 'part' of the story, leave out details and then go back, tell the story- more expediantly but semi-repititiously again, with the violent details?
Question 3: Will the violence, in the end disturb the intitial turn on for the reader, once I work the initial awe of the sex act, out.
Question 4: does it matter, or will the violence just be a second turn on?
Question 5: If the violence is awesome, and yet dichotomy, disturbing for the protag, should I give a shit as storyteller?
Question 6: Is it possible to give the same reader a turn on with the beauty, and then doubly a turn on with the violence? Or are they 2 different readers?
I'm repeating myself I know. I have writers block - trying to work it out . . . HELP! Please.
1998
I’d almost forgotten I had this album by Everlast.
I’d almost forgotten why I bought it in the first place until I put it in the stereo and ‘What It’s Like’ played a flood of memory through every nerve in my body.
Her hair was all one length then. She was trying to grow it out. It was pulled tight behind her ear in a small dark ponytail.
My eyes moved up the leg of her jeans. Her pants fell low off her small hips. I watched her beautiful ass bend as she turned up the song then paused, and turned around to me.
Her hips fluidly slid to the rhythm, her feet paced across the floor, her jeans lifted with her steps, and folded across her pussy. My heart raced as the spaghetti straps feathered off her shoulders, as her shirt dipped up and down her trim navel, hiding and revealing as she rolled her hips, as her breasts sinuously drifted with the rhythm flowing from her shoulders. She closed her eyes and the music washed through her every muscle as she swayed toward me, as my eyes drifted to her breasts caressing the nipple rings that peered through the fabric on her tight blue tank.
I watched her wine soaked lips curl into a smile, she opened her eyes, danced her legs over mine, stretching her ass over my thighs, she wrapped her arms around me, kissing me, confessing she loved me.
I was still trembling.
*cut to an hour earlier - first time fisting scenario occurs*
Blah, blah blah . . .
Question 2: can I as story teller semi-lie to reader? Go from what I wanted to happen as protag, tell 'part' of the story, leave out details and then go back, tell the story- more expediantly but semi-repititiously again, with the violent details?
Question 3: Will the violence, in the end disturb the intitial turn on for the reader, once I work the initial awe of the sex act, out.
Question 4: does it matter, or will the violence just be a second turn on?
Question 5: If the violence is awesome, and yet dichotomy, disturbing for the protag, should I give a shit as storyteller?
Question 6: Is it possible to give the same reader a turn on with the beauty, and then doubly a turn on with the violence? Or are they 2 different readers?
I'm repeating myself I know. I have writers block - trying to work it out . . . HELP! Please.
1998
I’d almost forgotten I had this album by Everlast.
I’d almost forgotten why I bought it in the first place until I put it in the stereo and ‘What It’s Like’ played a flood of memory through every nerve in my body.
Her hair was all one length then. She was trying to grow it out. It was pulled tight behind her ear in a small dark ponytail.
My eyes moved up the leg of her jeans. Her pants fell low off her small hips. I watched her beautiful ass bend as she turned up the song then paused, and turned around to me.
Her hips fluidly slid to the rhythm, her feet paced across the floor, her jeans lifted with her steps, and folded across her pussy. My heart raced as the spaghetti straps feathered off her shoulders, as her shirt dipped up and down her trim navel, hiding and revealing as she rolled her hips, as her breasts sinuously drifted with the rhythm flowing from her shoulders. She closed her eyes and the music washed through her every muscle as she swayed toward me, as my eyes drifted to her breasts caressing the nipple rings that peered through the fabric on her tight blue tank.
I watched her wine soaked lips curl into a smile, she opened her eyes, danced her legs over mine, stretching her ass over my thighs, she wrapped her arms around me, kissing me, confessing she loved me.
I was still trembling.
*cut to an hour earlier - first time fisting scenario occurs*
Blah, blah blah . . .