HoleInMyHead
Really Really Experienced
- Joined
- Dec 21, 2008
- Posts
- 300
Good Intentions (closed)
The last thing that Robert Woods had expected to find trapped in the headlights of his RV camper was a nude girl. There she was though, right in the middle of the off-ramp. Her pale, slender body was covered in bruises and wounds, like she had crawled onto the road through heavy underbrush. Her long, blond hair was twisted up with branches and prickers. The girl could not be a day over eighteen, which immediately made Robert fell protective of her.
She was staring right at him, as he slowed the RV. She looked scared as a rabbit, but stood her ground. In her hand was a long, wicked looking dagger, which was covered in fresh blood.
Robert had turned fifty years old two weeks ago, and received the present of finding his wife fucking his little brother, on his pool table, during his party. He and Marta had been married for twenty two years, together for thirty two, and had two grown children. They had spent their evenings in matching chairs, watching the news and then Letterman. They had gone to St. Mary's every Saturday night, and receive the sacraments, side by side. He had thought that they were each others life, but apparently it was not enough. She had needed that little shit Steve's dick in her, to be happy. he hoped that she was, but it was no longer his business.
Robert had left without a backward glance. He had shoved his essential tools in the back of their camper. She had always hated it anyway, calling it an immature indulgence. For three days he had driven west, without calling her. She had left eight messages on his cell phone, which he had deleted without listening to a one.
Before he left town, he had taken five thousand dollars out of their account, leaving her with a small fortune. She was welcome to it. He did not need their fancy McMansion, because he had a camper. He had needed her, but apparently she had not needed him.
Despite heading into his fifth decade on Earth, he was still a muscular man, with only a slight expansion around his waist. His upper body had some navy tattoos, but nothing distasteful, except the bare-breasted mermaid on his left biceps. Though his hair was going grey, it was still thick as a bear coat. He had equally thick sideburns, which his wife had always hated. There were some fine lines around his eyes, but he had a cleft chin and only a hint of extra flesh on his neck.
Robert knew that he was not a flashy dresser, but his ubiquitous boots, jeans and flannel shirts had always made him look strong, or so Marta, the bitch, had told him, back when she gave a shit about him. His brother was a runt, and a prick, but Robert was jealous of his rakish good looks. He never thought that Marta would fall for that fop.
Marta was behind him now, and that life was over. This girl was literally in front of him, and obviously in terrible trouble. For a moment he hesitated, fearing a trap. Still, it did not matter. He had already lost all that mattered to him, so what was his life. He opened the driver's door and stepped down slowly. Holding up his empty hands, he approached the girl.
OCC: Despite the setup, this is not a quick screw game. I need someone to write for the young woman. She is on the run from an abusive master who kept her, and her sisters captive. He is an evil magician who has a respectable front as a mayor of a small Missouri town. His minions steal young women, for him to use in his dastardly and demonic rituals. The girl has stolen a powerful ritual dagger, and he will be after her.
PM me if you are interested. I need someone who will writ posts of at least three paragraphs, post at least tri-weekly and who will not stop posting after one week.
To anyone who may wonder, I did not post this in the SRP forum, because everything there leads to sex within the first five posts. I want to tell stories, not write porn. Sure, I enjoy a bit of sex when I read a novel, but I am one of the ones that stopped reading the Anita Blake series after she turned into a mega slut. The story got lost in the sex. It is like taking the Italian beef out of your bun, scrapping off the cheese and onions, and then just eating it. Sure, it taste's good, but it is messy, and sticks to your fingers, and generally does not lead to.... Never mind. I lost the analogy.
The last thing that Robert Woods had expected to find trapped in the headlights of his RV camper was a nude girl. There she was though, right in the middle of the off-ramp. Her pale, slender body was covered in bruises and wounds, like she had crawled onto the road through heavy underbrush. Her long, blond hair was twisted up with branches and prickers. The girl could not be a day over eighteen, which immediately made Robert fell protective of her.
She was staring right at him, as he slowed the RV. She looked scared as a rabbit, but stood her ground. In her hand was a long, wicked looking dagger, which was covered in fresh blood.
Robert had turned fifty years old two weeks ago, and received the present of finding his wife fucking his little brother, on his pool table, during his party. He and Marta had been married for twenty two years, together for thirty two, and had two grown children. They had spent their evenings in matching chairs, watching the news and then Letterman. They had gone to St. Mary's every Saturday night, and receive the sacraments, side by side. He had thought that they were each others life, but apparently it was not enough. She had needed that little shit Steve's dick in her, to be happy. he hoped that she was, but it was no longer his business.
Robert had left without a backward glance. He had shoved his essential tools in the back of their camper. She had always hated it anyway, calling it an immature indulgence. For three days he had driven west, without calling her. She had left eight messages on his cell phone, which he had deleted without listening to a one.
Before he left town, he had taken five thousand dollars out of their account, leaving her with a small fortune. She was welcome to it. He did not need their fancy McMansion, because he had a camper. He had needed her, but apparently she had not needed him.
Despite heading into his fifth decade on Earth, he was still a muscular man, with only a slight expansion around his waist. His upper body had some navy tattoos, but nothing distasteful, except the bare-breasted mermaid on his left biceps. Though his hair was going grey, it was still thick as a bear coat. He had equally thick sideburns, which his wife had always hated. There were some fine lines around his eyes, but he had a cleft chin and only a hint of extra flesh on his neck.
Robert knew that he was not a flashy dresser, but his ubiquitous boots, jeans and flannel shirts had always made him look strong, or so Marta, the bitch, had told him, back when she gave a shit about him. His brother was a runt, and a prick, but Robert was jealous of his rakish good looks. He never thought that Marta would fall for that fop.
Marta was behind him now, and that life was over. This girl was literally in front of him, and obviously in terrible trouble. For a moment he hesitated, fearing a trap. Still, it did not matter. He had already lost all that mattered to him, so what was his life. He opened the driver's door and stepped down slowly. Holding up his empty hands, he approached the girl.
OCC: Despite the setup, this is not a quick screw game. I need someone to write for the young woman. She is on the run from an abusive master who kept her, and her sisters captive. He is an evil magician who has a respectable front as a mayor of a small Missouri town. His minions steal young women, for him to use in his dastardly and demonic rituals. The girl has stolen a powerful ritual dagger, and he will be after her.
PM me if you are interested. I need someone who will writ posts of at least three paragraphs, post at least tri-weekly and who will not stop posting after one week.
To anyone who may wonder, I did not post this in the SRP forum, because everything there leads to sex within the first five posts. I want to tell stories, not write porn. Sure, I enjoy a bit of sex when I read a novel, but I am one of the ones that stopped reading the Anita Blake series after she turned into a mega slut. The story got lost in the sex. It is like taking the Italian beef out of your bun, scrapping off the cheese and onions, and then just eating it. Sure, it taste's good, but it is messy, and sticks to your fingers, and generally does not lead to.... Never mind. I lost the analogy.
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