Toot Your Own Horn: Share your favorite scene in your stories.

[Bodington]

Not so long ago we had a thread inviting authors to list one's own personal favorite story published in Literotica. So, I thought why not have a thread listing your favorite scene in one of your stories be it by way of witty or sparkling dialogue or a breathtaking scene erotic or otherwise. I'll start the ball rolling by sharing a scene from the 5th chapter of my novel "Mothers and Daughters". In this scene the female character named Krisina Vargas is in labor in the process of giving birth to her daughter:

Heidi was with Kristina to lend female companionship to the stressful time. John St Clair also stayed to offer moral support. During her labor, Kristina experienced excruciating pain far more than she had bargained for when she refused to go to the hospital. Periodically she screamed and cursed something fierce completely alarming Heidi and St Clair almost senseless. The good doctor was inured to such outbursts of pain, so he simply continued overseeing Kristina's labor calmly.

At one point Kristina wailed, "Oh fuck Doctor this so fucking hurts! Why does it have to hurt so much?"

The good doctor replied, "I take it you are unaware of the pact that one of the first women made with God?"

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Apparently one of Eve's direct female descendent during her third pregnancy came to God and complained, 'Look God I get that we women are designed by You to bear the children. But to be fair why can't the responsible man bear the labor pain instead.' God replied, 'You know you ought to be careful what you wish for but nevertheless I certainly can accommodate your desire on such a trivial matter.' So on the night of the birth the woman delivered the child absolutely pain free as God had promised. Curiously enough the husband suffered no pain either although he had been expecting it.

"The woman was joyous as she thought she had pulled one over on God. Her joy was short lived since they discovered one of the male servants had died overnight apparently succumbing to what appeared to be birth pains. The woman sheepishly went to God again and conceded: 'On second thought to avoid some confusion I guess it is best for us women also to bear the labor pain'."

Although Heidi and St Clair laughed at the good doctor's joke, Kristina was not amused. She just snorted and declared, "It's too bad for all of womankind that I wasn't the woman to have made that pact with God. I sure as hell could have on the spur of the moment come up with a good and plausible excuse to explain away the discrepancy of the husband's lack of pain and the servant's apparent pain. I would not have needed to beg God to revert back to the original plan and then all women thereafter would not have had to bear this fucking pain."

 

[ShelbyDawn57]

OK, I'll play. I tear up every time I read the last scene in Living up to the Legacy:

---


It took a few days, but my dad finally asked me to join him in his office. Just the two of us.

"You don't remember any of this and that's ok." He had me sit in his chair as he slid a USB drive into his computer. Video after video, picture after picture. Two little kids, one a cute blonde boy with short hair, the other a pretty, red-haired girl in frilly dresses. Hunting Easter Eggs, dressed in their Sunday best for church, sitting on their parents' lap. It was Ethan and me.

I looked at him, confused.

"Ever since you were little. Ever since you could talk, you wanted to be a girl. You didn't understand why you were the way you were, and your mother and I let you dress however you wanted." He reached out and took my hand.

"Not long before your mother got sick, we had to sit you down and have a long talk with you about boys and girls. We talked about how you were special. We also talked to you about how others wouldn't understand and how the school you were going to be going to wouldn't let you wear your pretty dresses. I think you took that harder than when your mom got sick." He was trying not to cry.

"When your mom got sick, she insisted we tell you and your brother the truth, so we did. We all cried and then I took you and Ethan for ice cream, telling you how you needed to be strong, for each other, for your mom, for me. 'Ok, daddy.' It was like there was no other answer. You were always the strong one, you know that?"

He smiled at me through his tears. "You just nodded and asked me to take you to get your hair cut like mine and Ethan's. We left the barbershop and went back to see your mom. That's when we took that picture of the four of us. Your mom was so proud of you. She loved both of you so much, but especially you, her little girl, her Erica."

It all came rushing back. The memories were overwhelming. Tears streamed down my face. "You always knew, Ethan, too?"

He nodded. "Ethan and I talked about it often, wondering when you were going to come back. When you called him, he called me and sent me the picture. I knew your mom had always been right. You were her little girl, my little girl. You just had to find yourself again."

We sat there and watched the rest of the videos in silence, our tears replaced by the happiness and joy they showed.

"Anna said to come get you two for dinner." Ethan found us, me sitting on my dad's lap, both of us laughing at two little kids in the cutest Halloween costumes ever, The Big Bad Wolf and Little Red Riding Hood. Red Riding Hood was chasing the Big Bad Wolf with a stick, her long red hair flowing behind her as she yelled at him to stay out of her candy.

"Just one more thing." My dad opened the top drawer of his desk and pulled out two faded envelopes, handing one to me and the other to Ethan.

"My dearest Erica..." it began. It was a letter from my mom. She called me Erica, and I understood why he had waited so long to deliver it to me. I read it slowly, three times.

It ended,

"... Always be true to yourself.

I love you,

Mom."

I don't know what Ethan's letter said, and I didn't ask, just like he didn't ask about mine.

All those years, I had been trying to be what I thought someone else wanted me to be.

I had been trying to live up to a legacy.

It was just the wrong one.

 

[StillStunned]

(I know I shouldn't be the one to say it, as the originator of most of the Writing Exercises, but keep an eye on the word count. We've had snippets of up to 500 words sneak past, but let's not abuse the mods' tolerance. And be especially sure not to break any of Lit's publication rules.)

 

[THBGato]

(Context: Rehearsals for an Arthur Miller play. The actors playing Adam and Eve are both naked; the actresses playing Eve and Lucifer recently had a one night stand. Keke is the director. From Eve & Lucy Chapter 2.)

"Lucifer, can you just.... When you say that line, can you really point to it and get a lot closer? Is that ok, Adam?" Keke asks.

"Yeah, sure," Haile/Adam shrugs.

"Ok," I agree.

"Great, fantastic. It's really good people. Eve, back with us?"

"Yep, yep!" She bounces back from the window, her beautiful bare breasts bouncing up and down. How is Adam not just fondling them constantly?

"Ok, from Lucifer's line: You know why the Lord put you in this lovely garden. Ok, places, and go!"

"You know why the Lord put you in this lovely garden," I hiss insistently.

"To praise everything!" Adam yaps.

"Right." I cover my eyes with my hand and fidget in frustration. I speak slowly, as if talking to small children. Which, in a way, I am. "Now. What if I told you that there are a number of things you've been leaving out?"

"Oh no!" Adam claps his cheeks in shock. "I praise absolutely everything!"

"Oh yeah?" I slink forward. "And what about this thing here?" I grab his massive flaccid trouser snake and give it a shake. "Do you praise Him for that?"

Eve has come right up to us and is standing opposite me peering very closely at Adam's stiffening cock, her eyes wide.

There's a pause. Keke gives us a circular "keep going" motion. Adam looks down, looks at me, looks down again, looks at me, then says, "Well, not in particular, but I include it in."

Eve covers my hand with hers and shuffles them up and down as I say, "But how can you when you don't even know what it's for?"

"He pees that way," Eve adds brightly.

"Pees!" I shout, waving my hands in the air. Eve leaves hers where they are. "That is so incidental it's not even worth mentioning." I stare at him, look down at where Eve's hands are, look back at him. "You have no idea, do you?"

"Well...ah...."

"Yes?" I tap my feet.

"Ahh... ahhh.."

"Oh, that's not pee is it!" Eve giggles.

There's a thin line of something drooling down from the tip of Haile's now erect and frankly ridiculous penis. Eve is still stroking away.

"Huh? That's not in the -"

"Ok, cut, cut!" Keke calls. "Eve. Eve! Amanda! Stop!"

"Oh, like... oh shit, like, sorry Haile!" A blush spreads from behind her hands as she covers her face.

"Nah, babe it's all safe yeah."

"Sorry, that was my bad," I hold my hands up in apology.

"Haile, do you want a break?" His cock is still rigid and looks like it could serve as a load bearing buttress.

"Uh, yeah, man. I'm a gonna go cool off, innit?" He pulls his jeans and t-shirt on, and then, barefoot, pads out into the corridor. Probably going to go splash some water on his face. Or find a hammer to hit it with.

Amanda catches my eye, and suddenly we're both collapsing with laughter.

"Oh my God, Carrie! Like, I can't..."

 

[StillStunned]

You should pull the blanket over her properly now. Let her sleep. All she’ll know is that she had a wonderful dream.

You should go now. You still have to be up early tomorrow, and you should get some sleep.

You should play with yourself first. Fill your nose with her scent that’s still on your face, taste her cream that’s still on your lips, your finger.

You should feel bad about this, about what just happened. Ashamed of what you just did. You shouldn’t be rubbing yourself, moving your hand faster and faster, reliving it in your mind, licking your lips and inhaling deeply, faster and faster and– and– and...

You should be able to sleep now. And you shouldn’t try this again ever. You shouldn’t try it again tomorrow. You shouldn’t see what else you can do.

You really shouldn’t.

===
(Just kidding. It's not my favourite scene. But you knew that.)

 

[ShelbyDawn57]

You should pull the blanket over her properly now. Let her sleep. All she’ll know is that she had a wonderful dream.

You should go now. You still have to be up early tomorrow, and you should get some sleep.

You should play with yourself first. Fill your nose with her scent that’s still on your face, taste her cream that’s still on your lips, your finger.

You should feel bad about this, about what just happened. Ashamed of what you just did. You shouldn’t be rubbing yourself, moving your hand faster and faster, reliving it in your mind, licking your lips and inhaling deeply, faster and faster and– and– and...

You should be able to sleep now. And you shouldn’t try this again ever. You shouldn’t try it again tomorrow. You shouldn’t see what else you can do.

You really shouldn’t.

===
(Just kidding. It's not my favourite scene. But you knew that.)

I truly believe in that small corner of your mind, that special place where your inner sadist lives, that spot where malice reigns, this is in fact your favorite scene...

 

[StillStunned]

I truly believe in that small corner of your mind, that special place where your inner sadist lives, that spot where malice reigns, this is in fact your favorite scene...

It's not my favourite scene, but annoying everyone with 2P is one of my favourite passtimes.

More seriously, this ranks up there as one of my favourite moments. Sligh and Avilia's HEA after 55k words:

*
The sun was a handspan above the horizon when she saw a small dust cloud approaching. The speed was astonishing, even to someone who knew just how fast a riding-lizard could move.

She was on her feet even before Zretha reached the bottom of the hill. When the great beast crested the top, Avilia found herself on tiptoes, and as soon as Sligh dismounted she had her arms around him and they were kissing and laughing.

Moments later Farflier gave a cry and launched himself into the air. Zretha wandered down the slope of the hill, her long tongue snaking out to pluck at leaves and twigs. At the top of the hill, everything was silent except for passionate moans and grunts, and later a two-voiced cry of happy release.

*

 

[ShelbyDawn57]

I truly believe in that small corner of your mind, that special place where your inner sadist lives, that spot where malice reigns, this is in fact your favorite scene...

You heard about the sadist and the masochist, right?
The masochist said, "Please @StillStunned, write me a story like only you can, write it in second person."
You said, "No."

 

[Otto26]

The ending to The Black Hart.

"...and then you came here," Mortimer Howell concluded.

John nodded. An uncomfortable silence followed.

"He's under sentence of death," Mortimer said to his brother Mordecai.

Mordecai nodded. "But we should talk about this. Privately. John will wait for us."

John rattled the manacles and chains that held him in his chair in agreement.

The two Howells left the room and John sighed. Not just an exhalation of breath but a complete release of tension from his entire body. He'd kept his word. The hard part was over. They were going to kill him, of course, but that was no work at all and would be its own sort of release.

"You couldn't just send a letter?" Cassandra asked.

John's eyes snapped open in disbelief. She was standing in the doorway. Her hair was perfectly arranged, her gown was elegant and modest, her face... Ghosts didn't have bandages.

"You're hurt," he blurted.

"And you choose my disfigurement for our first topic of conversation," she chided.

"You're hurt," he repeated.

"Yes, John, I was injured. A timber in the water nearly killed me. I'm told it will leave a scar," she said.

"But you're alive!"

"Well done, you. Yes."

"I looked for you," he said. "Christ's blood, it felt like hours. In the water. On the beach. I thought you'd drowned."

"Nearly. I managed to hold onto the timber," she explained.

He laughed. Too loud and too long but he couldn't help it.

"I didn't find it so amusing," she commented.

"It tried to kill you and you forced it to save your life," he explained. The laughter took him again for several minutes.

Cassandra smiled. "I see the humor. But back to matters of sense. You couldn't just send a letter? You had to come here in person? To tell my father you raped his dead daughter?" She was clearly exasperated.

John tilted his head back, letting the tears run down his cheeks. "I thought he deserved more than a letter. I thought he deserved to hear how extraordinary his daughter was."

"And you didn't mind that he would kill you," she accused. "The deathwish has to end, John. I can't have you constantly trying to get yourself killed."

"Your admonition comes somewhat late," he pointed out.

Cassandra made a dismissive gesture. "Uncle Mordecai will deal with that. He's got a soft heart and still feels somewhat at fault for what happened to you."

John gaped. He respected Mordecai Howell. He even liked the man. But describing him as 'soft hearted' beggared the imagination.

"And he recognizes your value to us. So there won't be any killings today. Later, perhaps," she continued.

John felt himself on safer ground here. "A useful tool?"

Cassandra approached and straddled him, sitting on his lap and putting her arms around his neck.

"A tool," she agreed. "But not just a tool. Those things you taught me? The things I mostly knew?" She leaned forward and whispered in his ear "I had an extensive education on the theory. But never tutorials on the practice."

"Ah," he managed.

"And you only covered a portion of the material. Do you know what I can do if I take my finger and insert it..."

"Why are you telling me this?" he interrupted.

She pulled back and looked at him. "Isn't it obvious?"

"You're manipulating me?"

"Yes!" she laughed. "Oh, you're going to be so very useful in the field, John. I'm really looking forward to this. Mazares has gone to Peshwatta and we're to track him down. Father thinks I should be an expatriate lady fleeing scandal but Uncle and I agree that the Peshwatti won't tell a woman anything. They'll brag excessively in the presence of a slaver and his personal slave, however."

John felt as though his heart might stop and struggled to control his breathing. "What port do we sail from?" he asked.

 

[ElectricBlue]

This passage from Rope and Veil Part 2

Amelia sat with her arms resting on the table. The old woman lightly touched her fingers over the palms of Amelia's up-turned hands, tracing the shape of her long fingers. Slowly she moved her gnarled fingers up the younger woman's fore-arms and over her biceps.

"You've got some strength in those arms, girl," she said, her voice low with a slight quiver to it.

"Yes, I'm in wheelchair, my arms are strong."

"A long time ago then," the old woman murmured. How could she sense the years of Amelia's strength, just from feeling her muscle? Her fingers moved slowly up from Amelia's shoulders to the long line of her neck. I could see the woman exploring every part of my woman's throat, her fingers the most gentle trace.

"Ah, there's a pride in you, lass. I can feel it in the way you hold your head. High and proud. You're like my own daughter, this little one's mother, she's a strong woman too. Needs a strong man, that one, to match her." She laughed. "She finds them, my Clio. You got a strong man, lass?"

Amelia looked at me, her eyes soft.

"Yes, I think I've got a strong man. He puts up with me, anyway."

The old woman's fingers were a caress on Amelia's face, a gentle movement up the side of her cheeks to her temples. I could see her tracing the creases at the sides of Amelia's eyes, feeling the smile there.

"Ah girl, you've a joy on your face, I feel it from your eyes. That man of yours, he loves you and there's joy for you?"

Surprised, I saw Amelia's eyes glisten. There were few tears with Amelia, but somehow this old woman tracing her beauty was summoning them. Amelia reached out her hand to find mine, and she clutched it, hard.

"Oh lass, don't cry just because an old woman sees your love. You cry when the love goes, not now, lass, not now."

Amelia gripped my hand again, harder this time.

Then the woman cupped my Amelia's face in the palms of her hands and lightly traced the shape of her whole face and then her whole head with those caring hands. She paused as her fingers ran over the scars on the side of Amelia's head. The old woman didn't say a word, but held her hand there for a moment, as if feeling the reminder of Amelia's pain, long ago.

"My little girl is right. There's a beauty in you, girl." She patted Amelia's arm. "It's not just the outside, either. You've a beauty inside you, girl. Thank you for letting an old lady see."

Makes me tear up, every time I read it, sentimental fool that I am.

 

[MillieDynamite]

From Baptism in Blood...

The pressure inside my head pulsated, trying to explode. Even so, I had to go through with this meeting, lest for the third time, I turned chicken and ran. His mother is intimidating, a member of a royal family from Romania, Estonia, Hungary, or someplace around there.

A countess, beautiful, seemingly eternally young. The Countess had this regal bearing and appearance. I saw pictures from a few years before of his mother and sister at some fundraiser. Butterflies battled in my stomach as we neared a large, covered section in front of the main entrance. Two formidable statues of unearthly creatures stood guard above the covering. The beasts were complete with snarling fangs, claws to snatch with, and horns high on their heads.

The gray stone structure and these horrendous gargoyles could frighten the Wicked Witch of the West.

 

[yowser]

From Super Thighs Me

Her smile was enough of an invitation.

"Your turn," I said and reached over to unbutton her shirt.

She let me, an amused smile on her face the whole time. Although my excitement was huge, I managed the pesky buttons on the front of her shirt smoothly. And as she'd already undone the top ones, there weren't that many to wrangle.

Her shirt stood open, that valley exposed. No bra.

Oy. What a sight. Moses could not have been happier when he spied the promised land.

I pulled the shirt open so that her breasts, heavy and drifting, came loose. Again I inhaled and paused before pulling each sleeve off her arms.

We sat looking at each other, both topless. A thousand thoughts raced.

"I'll go first," she said, and stood up as far as she could to pull off her shorts in the tent. Gravity, that fabulous force, pulled her meaty breasts in marvelous directions as she worked to slip her shorts away. A thong was left and I quivered while she pulled that off as well.

There was not a straight line anywhere on her body. Breasts, hips, thighs, calves, shoulders—they all curved in some sort of dreamy geometric scheme.

 

[NotWise]

From Quater to Midnight, 256 words. You can guess what preceded the scene.

Aaron curled on the carpet and writhed in pain. It wasn't the pain in his side or the pain from Renée's teeth or nails that made him writhe, it was the pain of knowing what he'd done.

He rolled onto his back, hot and sweating, and then struggled out of his jacket and pulled his tie off. He lurched to his feet, left his pants behind, and went after Renée.

Aaron stood outside the little house in growing twilight with his shirt in hand and his boxers barely up. He hunted for her from window, to door, to window. "Renée! Are you OK?" His voice was a quiet hiss. There was no answer, so again, louder. "Renée, answer me!"

There wasn't a sound from inside, and Aaron stepped back from the house. He bellowed at the slowly darkening sky, "Renée!" He caught his breath again. "Renée, answer me!"

One neighbor peered out through a window, and then another. Renée opened the door and stood inside watching Aaron. "Would you shut up? People can hear you."

Aaron took a step toward Renée. "I need to know that I didn't hurt you."

"Damn right you hurt me." She cocked her head and looked more closely. "You're bleeding. I hope that hurts. I have your skin under my fingernails, and your junk is running down my leg. I'm going to take a shower and wash you off."

Renée started to close the door. She stopped, took one step back toward Aaron and slammed her open hand across his face.

 

[BobbyBrandt]

Not so long ago we had a thread inviting authors to list one's own personal favorite story published in Literotica. So, I thought why not have a thread listing your favorite scene in one of your stories be it by way of witty or sparkling dialogue or a breathtaking scene erotic or otherwise

Consider being offered the opportunity to recite a reading from one of your stories. Would you pick your favorite scene or try to find an excerpt that sparked the greatest interest in motivating your audience to read the complete work. Ideally the selected excerpt would fit both roles.

Based upon audience feedback, I like to think that this scene does that for me:

She noticed him immediately. SHE, had been taught.

His appearance made her pause in her stroll back to the mall. She remained approximately three feet inside the hallway that led to the restrooms near the food court at Shoreline Mall. She could watch him, but he would have a difficult time seeing her. SHE, had been taught.

Other patrons of the mall lingered at tables in the food court or stood in lines at one of the food vendors’ counters. If anyone else had noticed the man wearing a Kevlar vest and carrying the duffel bag they hadn’t reacted as she had. SHE, had been taught.

She continued watching from the hallway as the man stopped just inside the doors leading to the west parking lot of the mall. He wasn’t leaving as she had hoped. He was positioning himself between the people in the food court and their quickest exit. This could all be staged. Some sort of drill or test of security response to an active shooter, but her instincts told her otherwise. Her right hand reached inside her purse as the man slowly lowered the duffel bag to the tile floor, squatted with his back to the food court, and began to unzip it. She kept the man in her peripheral vision as she glanced over to the food court and looked up, taking in the whole environment. SHE, had been taught.

Through the glass half-wall that provided a barrier for the Mezzanine level of the mall, she could see more than a dozen shoppers strolling across her field of vision, most distracted by their cell phones or focused on their next purchasing objective. She returned her attention to the man and saw him just rising after retrieving several items from the bag. While she had hoped that the intentions of the man were not as she had suspected, she saw that he had donned a balaclava over his face before standing. This, coupled with the sight of the automatic rifle with a thirty-round magazine and the pump-action shotgun dispelled any doubts. She used her left hand to lower her sunglasses from the top of her head and put them on. She then removed her right hand from her purse and held it at her side. Patience. SHE, had been taught.

This was real. It took only seconds, but her instincts were verified as the half-wall barrier to the Mezzanine level exploded into thousands of pea-sized particles of tempered glass when the gunshot round struck it. As glass particles rained down on startled customers in the food court, several people on the Mezzanine level screamed in pain and fell to the floor, struck either by shotgun pellets or flying glass. When the man lowered the shotgun, leaving it dangling from the strap over his shoulder, and prepared to fire the automatic rifle into the stunned crowd in the food court, she reacted. SHE, had been taught.

Bracing her left shoulder against the wall at the opening of the hallway to the food court, she took aim from twenty feet away and fired three perfectly grouped shots below his body armor, into the man’s groin area. She heard the bullet casings clinking on the tile floor after each shot but ignored them as she watched the shooter fall immediately to his knees, dropping the assault rifle to the floor. As he bent over in agonizing pain, the strap of the shotgun slid down his arm, but he ignored it. She strolled quickly over to the man and kicked the automatic rifle out of his reach. SHE, had been taught.

Keeping her back to the food court and the security camera that she knew was there, she pulled on the strap of the shotgun until the man’s arm moved enough for her to extract it completely. She slid it out of his reach as well before finally gazing into the man’s eyes. She knew that all he would be able to see in the reflection of her sunglasses would be his own eyes and the pool of blood that was spreading out beneath him. While the bullets from a P380 automatic were not as large as those from a nine-millimeter, three hollow points in the area where she had aimed would almost certainly hit the Femoral artery. Her aim had been true, and the results were evident. SHE, had been taught.

His eyes were losing focus as the life drained out of his body. She stepped away from the spreading pool of blood, placed her pistol back into her purse, and walked quickly through the glass exit doors to the parking lot. Without hesitating at the sound of rapidly approaching sirens, she located her car, slid into the driver’s seat, backed out of her spot, and headed for the mall exit. She would be clear of the scene before anyone could get a description of her. SHE, had been taught.

 

[AchtungNight]

My favorite scenes? I won’t quote it exactly, don’t want to copy text or risk word count alarms. But I have two I’ll share-

For one on one, Boris and Elena’s coming together in Leap of Faith. Lots of angst in both characters, lots of attraction and uncertainty, all bleeds out and flows together in a first date coupling and then a lifelong bond.

For orgies, the big scene at the climax of Beijing Streakers. I wove in so many in-jokes related to the Olympics and Dynasty Warriors games, personality traits and fetishes… it’s one of those things I am proud to have pulled off years later. Lots of my readers enjoyed it too.

 

[Rob_Royale]

My favorite sex scene is in Strange Flowers. It's a group sex scene with five women and three men with the women (consensually) under the influence of an aphrodisiac. The women are of all ages and body types and the whole story is just so sex positive that I really enjoy it.
https://literotica.com/s/strange-flowers-1

 

[MelissaBaby]

Well, it's a bit of a spoiler, but it's definitely the final scene of Queen of the Roller Derby

It requires a little bit of context. Here is the final scene of the prologue. The narrator, Kitty, is recalling a memory from when she was nine years old. She's a lonely girl who is only happy when she's on her skates.

One day, late in the summer, I set the goal of skating all the way around City Airport. As I glided along Connor Avenue, I saw a plane on the runway getting ready to take off. I did a couple of slow turns on the sidewalk while it moved into position. When it began to roll down the runway, I skated alongside it. It picked up speed and I kept pace. It continued to accelerate and I pumped my legs, faster and faster, trying to keep up with it. My heart was beating so hard that if it wasn't for the noise of the plane's engines, I might have been able to hear it. The plane rose and I felt giddy, dizzy with excitement. It soared and so did I. I was a bird. I was an angel. I was the fastest girl in the world.

At the story's conclusion, Kitty is 72. She has been invited, along with her surviving teammates, to a reunion of their championship roller derby team, in front of a large audience of modern fans. To everyone's bemusement, Kitty has put on her skates.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Jacinda shouted, “From the A-1 Comets and the national champion New Jersey Devil Dolls…Kitty the Comet, Kitty Boyd!”

I bent forward and reached into my skate case, then stood, rolled a few feet forward, and held up the Comets championship trophy. The audience really cheered. Jacinda shouted, “Ladies and gentlemen, the 1957 Champion A-1 Comets.”

I kept rolling.

The track was in the dark, but I didn’t care. I could make that circuit with my eyes closed. By the time I reached the first corner, they had turned the lights up. The crowd was whooping and hollering. I picked up speed, and I heard my teammates. They had commandeered the microphone, and led by Budz’ booming voice, chanted “Go, Kitty, Go!”

The crowd joined them, and I came around the second turn, and I pumped my legs harder, picked up speed, and zoomed down that track, holding the trophy high over my head. I took a deep breath on the second lap, and did my spin. Everyone in the field house was on their feet as I took the next turn backwards.

“Go, Kitty, Go!”

I spun forward on the straightaway and looked to the center of the track, to my teammates. In my mind’s eye, they were young again. Budz was on her feet, jumping up and down, her fists in the air. Angie was with them, and Celia and Goldie and all the other girls. Coach Joe stood there with his cigar hanging from his lip. And just beyond them, smiling at me, showing her dimples, was my beautiful Myra.

“Go, Kitty, Go! Go, Kitty, Go!”

The noise was deafening, but I did not hear the crowd anymore. I heard the roaring engines of an airplane. The field house faded and I was speeding down Connor Avenue, along the City Airport fence. The plane accelerated down the runway, and I kept pace with it. It rose into the air, and I rose with it. I was a bird. I was an angel. I was Kitty the Comet. The queen of the roller derby. I was the fastest old lady in the world.

Shit, that still makes me cry.

 

[Erozetta]

From "How Much More" This is probably my favorite scene because it basically put my own anxiety and world experience on display.

Normality was the first lie I perfected.

I laughed and smiled with the best of them. My eyes lit up with what I knew was the expected response to positive stimuli. A surprise birthday party? My worst nightmare. No time to prepare and perfect my response, a crash course in improv on the spot. I would manage to thank the host and endure the party with an expression that mimicked enthusiastic cheer after a fleeting moment of panic. Then I crashed in bed for a solid day when it was over.

The people around me thought they kept me engaged and social, but I forced myself to perform that routine whenever my eyes opened to a new day. It had nothing to do with whoever was around me. I wore the mask of humanity well. It was easy to belong beneath a disguise. But it was temporary. Lasting only as long as the company of the person I was faking it for.

I didn't want to fake it; I wanted to know that the people around me wanted to be around me. To know that they weren't just my friends because I behaved in a particularly acceptable way? That was my dream. Being flawed? Imperfect? It terrified me, and that fear was affecting every aspect of my life. I sought help because I didn't trust anyone. I couldn't get close to anyone. Therapy seemed like the only path forward as I felt I was being backed into a corner by people who wanted to rip my mask off of me in order to learn who I really was beneath the forced smiles and politeness.

That's not a way to live.

 

[gunhilltrain]

I truly believe in that small corner of your mind, that special place where your inner sadist lives, that spot where malice reigns, this is in fact your favorite scene...

Is that a quote from a story or just your observation about human nature? Anyway, how about those of us who are "switches" and have an inner masochist too? That perhaps doubles the number of possible scenes.

 

[StillStunned]

As for scenes that make us tear up:

===
"How have you been?" Oonagh asked, looking back at the band.

"Alright." It was an automatic reply, a stupid reply. Of course he hadn't been alright. "Worse than before. Better, too."

"Hmm." There was another sideways glance. "I know what you mean."

That was all Pod needed to hear. His heart pulsed inside him. Of course she knows what I mean! No-one knows me like she does.

But it wasn't just that. Worse, and better. No-one knew her like he did, either.

"Were you waiting for me?"

Now she turned to face him full on. When she spoke, her voice was soft, like the first faraway train of the new day, leaving the yard. "I've waited here for you every year."

In the distance people were clapping and shouting. The band was striking up. Since when do they play in the Park, anyway? The thought floated across his mind like snow over the teeming city.

"If I'd known..."

"If you'd known it wouldn't have been worth the wait." She raised a hand and pressed it against his chest. Even through the bulk of his coat he could feel her warmth. "We needed this time. We needed however long it took."

(From "Fairytale of New York")

 

[MillieDynamite]

@StillStunned, you stunned me.

As for scenes that make us tear up:

===
"How have you been?" Oonagh asked, looking back at the band.

"Alright." It was an automatic reply, a stupid reply. Of course he hadn't been alright. "Worse than before. Better, too."

"Hmm." There was another sideways glance. "I know what you mean."

That was all Pod needed to hear. His heart pulsed inside him. Of course she knows what I mean! No-one knows me like she does.

But it wasn't just that. Worse, and better. No-one knew her like he did, either.

"Were you waiting for me?"

Now she turned to face him full on. When she spoke, her voice was soft, like the first faraway train of the new day, leaving the yard. "I've waited here for you every year."

In the distance people were clapping and shouting. The band was striking up. Since when do they play in the Park, anyway? The thought floated across his mind like snow over the teeming city.

"If I'd known..."

"If you'd known it wouldn't have been worth the wait." She raised a hand and pressed it against his chest. Even through the bulk of his coat he could feel her warmth. "We needed this time. We needed however long it took."

(From "Fairytale of New York")

 

[StillStunned]

@StillStunned, you stunned me.

Thanks! For pure emotion, that story is the rawest thing I ever wrote. When I did the first WIWAW about it, as a thread here on the forums, @Devinter said he'd love to comment, but that would mean reading it for a fourth time and he couldn't handle that.

It's a story about love and introversion, and the difficulty of combining the two.

 

[PapaRomantic]

The dream sequence at the end of the series that were my very first submissions on Literotica. I just read it again as I was preparing this post, and I started tearing up one more time...

Blind Date Awakening, Ch. 6, pg. 5

 

[MillieDynamite]

From my story, First Contact #1: The Strigoi, on sale at Bookapy.

Genevieve, a petite blonde whose body seemed made for sin, arched her back in response. Meeting Elena thrust for thrust. Her moans echoed off the walls as their skin slapped together in a sensual mixture of sounds. Their clits ground together, and they tongue fucked each other’s mouths.

 

[MetaBob]

* Every scene with Cara in Valley Winter Loop.
* The scene between mother and daughter in The Dog Whisperer that I wrote after being challenged here to adhere to the "Bechdel Test." I still think it's a stupid, confrontational, and disparaging metric, but took the challenge and really like the result.
* Every scene with Mother Marta in Valley Winter Loop.
* Every single frickin' thing about Crossings, which is book 3 of 5 of "Real Amazons, Real Magic," except that I might have overused the word "incredible." Books 4 and 5 are in process.
* That scene I added to chapter 3 of Packback after I first posted it here, then a publisher picked it up:

One afternoon, after setting up camp early, Megan challenged me to a race. We were both wearing shorts, light t-shirts, and our trail shoes.

"You were a sprinter in college, right?"

She nodded, smiling mischievously. "I'll even let you call the start. I'm faster than at least 95% of men my age, so unless you're a sprinter yourself, you have no chance against me."

"Well, even though I still run and I'm faster than about 99% of women my age at 5 or 10K, in bigger races there are always women faster than me, so I'll bet you can but I'm game anyway. Show me."

"You're on, Scott."

"That tree over there." I pointed. "It's about 100 yards away, your distance and definitely not mine. Go when I do." I bent down the way distance runners do while she got down on all fours, then raised up from her knees with just her fingertips down.

I knew from my track experience that reaction time is something like a tenth of a second, which in a sprint like this is a big head start between evenly matched athletes, though I bet we weren't evenly matched at all. When she looked ready, I went. I was ahead for the first 20 meters. Then she caught up, smiled sweetly at me, and blew me away. The only competitive sprints I'd ever run were against other distance runners in interval workouts; sprinters are a whole other species. I think she beat me by a full second. When I reached the tree she came close, hugged and kissed me deep, wrapped her legs around my waist, said "on the ground," pulled down her shorts and then mine, stroked my cock the rest of the way to full length, mounted me, and fucked me 'til she screamed. I lasted only a little longer than she did.

"Damn, that was hot," she gasped, breathing hard.

"Yeah, pretty hot," I said, sweating harder than after our sprint. She wouldn't let me help with dinner or cleanup that night, and then in my double sleeping bag, she fingered and tongued me to one of the best orgasms I'd ever had. She wouldn't let me reciprocate in any way until the next night, and every time she smiled at me she seemed even happier.

"Mike would never race me," she said the next morning, her arms around me, her cheek on my chest. "He was a linebacker on the football team, not a very good one but he's faster than you, and he was afraid of losing to a girl. You're not. I ... like that about you very much."