I've written in the past. And I thought it might prove wise to seek help in advancing my word smithing abilities. The current story I'm working on is incomplete ... Let's just say I've stalled in my story development.
And if someone wanted to read what I've written with an eye toward comments on any subject from plot development to grammar to simply delete this and start over, I'd be appreciative.
The story is consensual. It flirts with an incestuous undertone between siblings, but it may never go beyond flirting or it may leave the end result ambiguous.
It begins,
The clock glows green on my white and yellow dresser—almost eleven. The witching hour fast approaches and my brother (if I dare go through with it) will soon pick me up. I run my hands through my hair, draw it tight, only to let it fall loosely over my shoulders. My fingers tremble —whether from excitement or fear, I cannot say—when I pluck first at one piece of black, lace lingerie before I move to another frothy bit of silk. What to wear to a party where you are the night's entertainment?
Just then, a staccato knock on my front door breaks my reverie. I step pantyless into a tight blue-black skirt that grips my ass like a lover's hand. The lace corset I wear squeezes at my white breasts, emphasizing their shape. I smile seductively as Cardo's fist pumps impatiently against the door. Slipping on a black cashmere sweater and stiletto heeled fuck me pumps, I go to let my brother in, thighs already dew damp with excitement.
As I open the door, I smile and pause to admire the slim height of my brother. He wears an athletic cut suit and his long lashed eyes mimic my own. “Cara,” he says as he leans to kiss my cheek and inhale my vanilla perfumed body. “You look totally fuckable.”
“Sweet words,” I reply leaning close to inhale his clove scented masculinity. My eyes burn and the heat that builds with my center sends a thousand sensations shooting through me.
Cardo pushes me away. Pulling a thin sheath of bills from his jacket, he counts them into my hand. “One thousand,” he says, “half in advance as promised.”
And I probably have another section as long written. But I'm sorely tempted to abandon it absent help from a kind mentor, aka, editor.
Lilacs
And if someone wanted to read what I've written with an eye toward comments on any subject from plot development to grammar to simply delete this and start over, I'd be appreciative.
The story is consensual. It flirts with an incestuous undertone between siblings, but it may never go beyond flirting or it may leave the end result ambiguous.
It begins,
The clock glows green on my white and yellow dresser—almost eleven. The witching hour fast approaches and my brother (if I dare go through with it) will soon pick me up. I run my hands through my hair, draw it tight, only to let it fall loosely over my shoulders. My fingers tremble —whether from excitement or fear, I cannot say—when I pluck first at one piece of black, lace lingerie before I move to another frothy bit of silk. What to wear to a party where you are the night's entertainment?
Just then, a staccato knock on my front door breaks my reverie. I step pantyless into a tight blue-black skirt that grips my ass like a lover's hand. The lace corset I wear squeezes at my white breasts, emphasizing their shape. I smile seductively as Cardo's fist pumps impatiently against the door. Slipping on a black cashmere sweater and stiletto heeled fuck me pumps, I go to let my brother in, thighs already dew damp with excitement.
As I open the door, I smile and pause to admire the slim height of my brother. He wears an athletic cut suit and his long lashed eyes mimic my own. “Cara,” he says as he leans to kiss my cheek and inhale my vanilla perfumed body. “You look totally fuckable.”
“Sweet words,” I reply leaning close to inhale his clove scented masculinity. My eyes burn and the heat that builds with my center sends a thousand sensations shooting through me.
Cardo pushes me away. Pulling a thin sheath of bills from his jacket, he counts them into my hand. “One thousand,” he says, “half in advance as promised.”
And I probably have another section as long written. But I'm sorely tempted to abandon it absent help from a kind mentor, aka, editor.
Lilacs