Writers?

[rgraham666]

I'm reminded once again why I really dislike participating in writing threads.

Maybe it's just me, but they always seem to boil down to arguing over what the 'proper' way to write is.

"All styles are good, except the boring." - Voltaire.

That's what it boils down to for me.

 

[FallingToFly]

The Killer that self-consciousness is, has been a shackle I've struggled with for many years, and I've found that during brief periods when it was at least loosened, when I didn't worry about the opinions, criticisms - or praises - of others, I experienced a greater sense of liberty to just get down to work for the pure pleasure of it.

Shortly after I signed on here and experienced my first dose of negative feedback, I was running to the AH, panic-stricken, "what am I doing wrong? Help me!"

Those who responded were very nice and generous with their advice.
"It's too much this... try this... you're doing too much of this and not enough of that... this is good, that's rather weak..."

So I'm noting everything, yeah, they're right. Yeah, I see what they're saying. Go back to the shed.

Then lo and behold someone comes along and says they like what they read, just the way it is.

Well, for those who don't battle self-doubt all this would have little effect on them, but I was running in circles, hesitating, worrying.

But I brought the storm upon myself for asking the questions in the first place.

Instead I could have just studied their work.

I still may not have become a worthy writer but the nights would be warmer.

Maybe.

Or, if I would do it all over, I'd approach them via PM. And assume nothing.

There is no wrong or right in writing.

My style is far too "purple" for a lot of people, I do a lot of description, a lot of focusing on the who, what, where, when, why and how, and if it doesn't contribute to the "feel" of a piece, I don't put it in. What does it matter if the third stroke and fifth stroke were so deep that bumped her cervix? It's sex, and lovemaking is like ocean waves- every stroke and touch is different. Anyone who hashad sex knows this- they don't need a blow by blow of the forty-seven and a half strokes it took for her to climax, or the twenty after that where he was rushing to catch up with the crest of her particular wave.

Some people can do the blow-by-blow and make it work, and I say more power to them. Some people can do minimalist and make it shine, and some people are right smack down in the middle.

Bottom line is: however you write, if it's right for you, you know it. I've had the experience, here recently, of letting someone with a very different writing style than mine have too much control during the editing process. It ended with me in tears at the local coffeehouse, trying to patch up what felt like a broken bird. It was NOT my editor's fault- he is a wonderful and intense editor, and helps me so immensely I could never express my gratitude. It was my fault, for letting someone else have too much control of what was my creative process. I fixed it, luckily, in time to actually like what I had written, and the feedback was exactly what you were talking about- a mixed bag.

The best and only advice I can give to a fellow writer- go with what feels right to you. Pay attention to grammar, spelling, and the technical stuff so that what you write is an enjoyable read for your audience, and write what works for you. No one can please everyone all the time, and I wouldn't even try. Write for yourself, and everythign else that comes from it, everyone else who gets it, and loves it, is just a bonus cherry on top of the sundae.

 

[Stella_Omega]

I'm reminded once again why I really dislike participating in writing threads.

Maybe it's just me, but they always seem to boil down to arguing over what the 'proper' way to write is.

"All styles are good, except the boring." - Voltaire.

That's what it boils down to for me.

Who's arguing?

We've mostly been agreeing with each other, and offering examples- something I love to do, and i love to read from other people too!

More- someone else post snippets of their softest and hardest, okay?

 

[neonlyte]

Who's arguing?

We've mostly been agreeing with each other, and offering examples- something I love to do, and i love to read from other people too!

More- someone else post snippets of their softest and hardest, okay?

I would but you might not notice the difference, I tend to move at a single speed I'll have a ponder.

 

[Kev H]

I'm reminded once again why I really dislike participating in writing threads.

Maybe it's just me, but they always seem to boil down to arguing over what the 'proper' way to write is.

"All styles are good, except the boring." - Voltaire.

That's what it boils down to for me.

Umm, why don't you try capturing the loose emotion that caused this strange overreaction and buckle it down? Perhaps I am too naive, but I see nothing aside from interesting discourse and shared examples here. However, I'd be interested to know what gave you such a negative reaction.

 

[FallingToFly]

Who's arguing?

We've mostly been agreeing with each other, and offering examples- something I love to do, and i love to read from other people too!

More- someone else post snippets of their softest and hardest, okay?

Will a comparison of soft and hard n my MF work do? I only have one Lesbian piece up, and it is decidedly soft.

 

[FallingToFly]

Umm, why don't you try capturing the loose emotion that caused this strange overreaction and buckle it down? Perhaps I am too naive, but I see nothing aside from interesting discourse and shared examples here. However, I'd be interested to know what gave you such a negative reaction.

Kev! I hate you right now... I'm havign to write a whole new chapter in between Chapter 3 and 4 of my NaNo.

 

[neonlyte]

Hard - Erotic Coupling 'Bird of Paradise'

"Tim, I'm old enough to be your Mother. I'm not young."

He had his back to me, pouring tea. He shrugged his shoulders.

"I'm not bothered, my Mother's older than me and I love her dearly."

I can feel my face colour, my anger rising.

"Don't be flippant!" I snap back, clear in my own mind he was only out for what he can get. "Don't turn around." I say, fully aware of my nakedness, "I'm getting out of bed."

He gives me a couple of seconds - then he turns around. I stand like the proverbial rabbit caught in headlights trying to cover my exposure instead of running to the bathroom. We edge across the room, my legs heavy as if wading through water, his eyes moving up my body, intensely burning, I can feel their passage.

"You know you talk a load of rubbish sometimes. Drop your arms. Let me take a proper look at you."

"No." I reply.

I'm two steps from the door to the bathroom, but I don't move; my eyes lower to the obvious bulge in the towel around his waist.

"You want me to force you?"

I wasn't sure if he meant his words to be a statement or a question, they confuse me. My mind floods with images of that awful first sexual encounter. No tenderness, just drunken brute force. Does Tim see that in me? I was willing enough last night, but I wasn't easy, I didn't throw myself at him; he had to make all of the running. Am I so transparent?

"You wouldn't dare."

What a stupid thing to say! I know I should take myself to the bathroom, my heart is racing, a jumble of thought tramples upon my instinct and I'm loosing control, no longer certain what I want, what he wants. He decides for both of us, loosening his towel. Exposing himself; his phallus challengingly erect. It is the focus of my attention and once more I'm not aware of moving until I feel the wall again at my back. My eyes remain fixed at his waist, and, as I lower my arms to my side, he smiles.

"Good girl. Now come to bed."

My head silently bawls that's not what I want.

"No." I whisper, scarcely believing myself. "Here. Like last night. Make it real. Last night is a blur. Don't talk, just do what you want, use my body."

He's standing close to me. I can feel his heat, smell his minty breath and yet I don't remember him moving. My body is tense, muscles tightly coiled like springs, though I know I'm shaking, fearful, not of him but of the desires he's unleashed in me. 'Touch me', I mouth, afraid to hear the words out loud.

He doesn't move. He just looks at me, my face, for what seems to be an eternity. I can't read him, I don't have that experience, his face, his eyes, they look so open, and I pass beyond caring the truth of his intention. I want to re-live the feelings of last night, for the sex, yes... for the sex, but also to feel wanted, however fleetingly; I am willing to pay that price.

I stretch out a hand and close it around his phallus, he shuts his eyes, his lips form the merest smile and I realize he wanted me to make the first move, that he needs me to want him. He's mumbling endearments into my neck - foolish nonsense - his lips drawing at my skin, the tip of his tongue scribing patterns, on the apparently sensitive skin behind my ears. He finds a spot that makes me shiver, explores, awaking every fibre in my body. My legs turn to jelly, only the wall and his hands clasping mine keep me upright. His lips move down my shoulder, I'm aflame now at every caress, willing him on, barely believing the undulations emanating from his touch. He moves onto my breast, teasing at a nipple inflamed, swollen, exquisitely painfully. I cradle his head like an infant, whilst he suckles my breast, his tongue playing, my nipple stretched to bursting, stirring my desire, rippling waves of yearning drive all doubt from my brain, I can hear my body scream, the roar of blood in my veins as his mouth continues its blissful assault.

My sex is pulsating, demanding attention. I swear I can feel my labia engorge, blood surging to feed a frenzy of nerve ends awakened from hibernation. I push his head from my breast down to where I need his touch; my fingers replace his lips massaging his saliva across a nipple pinched twixt finger and thumb. I wantonly part my legs waiting for the brand of his tongue. He moves slowly, kissing gently across the span of my stomach sending tremors through my body, I can barely stand. His hands, hot on my thighs, move onto my bottom, bending my hips to meet his mouth. I know if he tongues me I'll orgasm, and I won't be embarrassed, or ashamed. His mouth covers my sex, his tongue parting the folds of skin, penetrating me, teeth grazing against my clitoris. I'm rocking against his mouth his hands cupping my bottom to match my rhythm, pulling me onto his face, fingers prying between my cheeks. It's a shock when he brushes the rim of the tighter hole, my whole body contorts and I move a hand and push him away, but he returns to the spot, his fingers laden with seeping moisture, gently probing, my hand covering his, ready to stop him, until a finger slips into the orifice and the outrage is enough to trigger my orgasm. I thrash wildly against his mouth, wanting to swallow his head, and his hand. I no longer care what he thinks of me. If today is to be all, it will be enough.

Softer - Lesbian 'Burning Bridges'

She took my hand and led me up the stairs where I fell to her bed shaking with fear and desire. She reached under her dress, removed her panties, and crouched beside me, knees parted with the skirt of her dress bunched between her thighs.

Her hair fell over my face as she leaned into me planting kisses on my eyes, my nose, mouth and then renewed her attack on my neck and ears. How did she know? What told her where I wanted her kisses? Slowly she unbuttoned by blouse exploring each new area of skin with her lips, raising goose bumps on my skin with the dew of her tongue. I raised my shoulders allowing her to unsnap the clasp of my bra and let her help me out of my blouse. I was ashamed of my breasts, sagging already, they had never been what you could describe as 'pert' and involuntarily brought my arms across my chest only for her push them away moving in to nuzzle and graze, delighting in the stiffening nipples caught between her lips. I don't ever recall feeling so wanton, so lacking in inhibition, I wanted, needed her to touch me and lay serene in her pleasure.

She raised herself and moved to unhook the side fastening on my skirt, sliding the zip and removing my skirt, tights, and panties in one move. My nakedness was absolute under her eyes and I felt relief as she slipped out of her own dress and bra and lay across my body; just to feel her skin on mine was enough, my hips raised to find the pressure of hers and bring my first climax. I lay panting beneath her joined by a sheen of perspiration until she finally raised herself; I parted my legs to make room for her knees and felt her eyes travel down my body.

"I've never done this before." Jenny said, "I don't know what to do. I've wanted to be with you for such a long time and now you're here and I don't know what to do."

I reached up and hugged her to me feeling her breasts melt against mine and another flame of desire threatened to engulf me.

"You are doing fine, make love to me, let me make love to you, no rules, no boundaries, we can find the way together."

What started with renewed kissing, ended after hours of exquisite torture and pleasure, finding each other's rhythms, pleasure centres, and taste. I could have died then and been content, never did I imagine it could be like this. I couldn't keep my hands, and eventually my mouth, from the sweet wetness between her legs, wanting to pry, unfold, and seek the secret that gave me such intense pleasure.

I tried to keep track of who was following, who was leading, seeking the stereotype of fiction, my head pushed away the other lie, that what we are doing is wrong and I surrendered to her caresses with gratitude, discovering more of my body, my souls' needs and desires than in all of my former thirty odd years, and, finally, I pushed Katherine into a corner of my mind where she could look on and smile. Later, exhausted, swollen, sore from mutual ministrations, we fall to sleep wrapped in arms and legs as if it was always thus.

That first night was a passage of mutual discovery, everything a first for each of us; later she told that she had always known she would give herself like that, for me her tenderness and capacity to love and be loved was a dream come true, someone to share, completely, everything.

 

[hmmnmm]

There is no wrong or right in writing.

My style is far too "purple" for a lot of people,

Ha! That's the exact word someone used towards me.
Of course then I'm running to the dictionaries, "I know what purple is, but what does it REALLY mean. Does it have to be a bad thing?"

I'd also recently come off a Proust binge (which writing style I happen to enjoy reading).

 

[cloudy]

More- someone else post snippets of their softest and hardest, okay?

softest (this is IT for sex in the entire story):

Joseph pulled back, smiling, then place a hand under her leg, lifted it out of his way, and with one slow stroke, eased into her. They were still a moment, barely breathing, and then Sherry wrapped her legs around his waist, silently asking for more. He rocked deeper, making her forget the healing, the man, all of it, as his body demanded she go with him.

hardest (there's more, just posting a snippet):

Kelly rocked back, up onto his knees, releasing my legs. His hands went to my hips, gripping me hard up against him, and began fucking me hard. Riding me. I held his arms for leverage and fucked him back, rocking to get as much of his cock inside me as I could.

He slowed for a moment and I groaned in frustration. Looking me in the eye, he almost growled, "What do you want?"

"Oh, god, Kelly....just fuck me, please!"

 

[Selena_Kitt]

1=Elusive Butterfly Of Love
and
10=CUM ON HER TITS


Hmmm.. quite a scale. Probably a 7. But that's an average.

Soft: (from Cry Wolf)

They slid easily over the rabbit skin, although there wasn't much wiggle room, their bodies pressed close together. She could feel the length of his hardness against her thigh, wanting to impale her like a spear. Outside, the wind howled and the dim light of the storm shed an eerie, beryline light over their faces.

Anana was hungry for him, her little belly rubbing against his, and they worked hard to heat the space with their body heat and ragged breath as they kissed and touched each other. She rolled on top of him, straddling him at the waist, the sleeping skin forcing her to lean forward, her breasts poised near his face. He sucked them, eager, his hips moving them both, up and down, although he wasn't inside her, yet.

"Aieeee," she cried as he slipped his hand between her legs, cupping the soft, dark hair of her mound. "Yes, yes." She rocked against him, grinding her pelvis into his hand, urging him with her movements to open her up. He parted her swollen lips, exploring the soft, wet, fleshy folds of her vulva with probing fingers.

She slithered further down his body, reaching between his legs and finding him. He felt enormous in her hand as she tugged and stroked, rubbing him over and over the softness between her legs. Davis held onto her, his fingers digging into the meaty flesh of her hips, moving along with her current, riding the eddies and swirls.



Hard: (from Babysitting the Baumgartners Ch. 13)


I put my arm over my eyes, panting, almost ashamed at my response. Mrs. B was kissing my shoulder and arm, and I felt Doc moving up to lie on the other side of me.

"Did you like that?" she whispered into my ear. "Didn't it feel good to have his finger in your ass?"

I moaned, peeking out at her, and whispered, "Yes."

"It's ok," she murmured. "I let him fuck my ass all the time."

I stared at her, remembering what Gretchen had said. I love a cock in my ass.

"Doesn't it hurt?" I asked.

She smiled. "Not if you do it right."

I looked over at Doc and then away. "It just... seems so... wrong... dirty..."

"That's part of what makes it fun," Doc whispered into my ear, making me shiver.

Mrs. B was tracing circles on my belly. "It's not, really. As long as you're clean."

I remembered in the bathtub, her pushing her finger into my ass.

"Does it..." I looked at her, frowning. "Does it feel good?"

She nodded. "Mmmm-hmm....god yes." Glancing over at Doc and some sort of communication seemed to pass between them. "Want to see?"

I felt my ass clench and I shook my head. "No!"

She chuckled, leaning in and kissing my cheek. "Not you... me."

"Oh." I glanced down, seeing that Doc was still at half-mast and standing up even straighter as Mrs. B knelt up, moving over me, kissing me.

"What—?" I started, but her mouth stopped me, her thighs pressing mine open under hers. Doc was moving behind her, I could see him above us.

"He has to lube everything up," she whispered against my cheek, resting her head on my shoulder. I could see that he had something in his hand, a tube, and he was squirting clear liquid into his hand.

"First he'll put it all over his cock..." I heard something slick, like the sound of his hand moving over his shaft.

"Then, he'll use his fingers... ohhhh..." Her body moved against mine, her back arching. I couldn't see what he was doing, but she told me. "He's putting his fingers in my ass, making it nice and slick."

"Does it hurt?" I whispered.

"No." She shook her head against my shoulder. "Just have to relax... open up... mmmm... let him work it open with his fingers..."

"Ready, baby?" Doc murmured, and I could feel her hands tightening on my shoulders as she nodded her head.

"Yes." She hissed and closed her eyes for a moment. "Oh god... he's pressing the head of his cock in... that's the hardest part... just have to... ohhhhhh god, baby."

I heard Doc groan a little, felt his weight shift on the bed. "It's okay, it's okay."

"Yes," she whispered again, loud enough for him to hear. "More... more..."

She kissed my cheek, my neck. "Ahhhh god... that's it, baby... I can take it... the head's almost in..."

I couldn't tell who she was talking to anymore, him or me. "Deeper... oooohhhh yeahhh... deeper... mmmmmmm."

She was rocking back a little against him now, her breasts swaying against mine. "He's in me, now... his cock is in my ass..."

I looked up at her face, the expression caught somewhere between pleasure and pain. "All the way in?" I gasped.

"Almost," she panted, groaning when he shoved into that last inch. She smiled at me, kissing me on the mouth, her tongue petting mine. I could feel him rocking her, fucking her, driving her forward onto me.

"Now comes the fun part," she whispered into my ear, pressing her breasts to mine. "Oooo god, that's gooood..."

She moaned and panted against my ear, rocking back against him. "Yes, baby, yes... fuck my ass!"

The sound of her words thrilled me, although I couldn't imagine his cock where it was, stretching her open...

"Want to see?" she whispered, like she was reading my mind. She went fully up to her hands and knees. "Go on."

I wiggled out from under, crawling behind her as Doc grabbed her hips, pressing deep. His eyes were on me, watching me as I knelt up next to her.

"See," he said, showing me, spreading her cheeks wide.

I could see his shaft reappearing as he pulled back, the head popping under that tight, wrinkled hole. The lube he had used glistened and pooled against her flesh. In spite of my hesitation and my own fear, my pussy was aching and I watched, fascinated, as he began to move through that snug channel even faster, making Mrs. B moan louder.

Sliding my hand along the back of her thigh, I found her pussy, wet and swollen. She arched her back, rocking against my hand, his cock. His balls were slapping against her flesh now and she ground her hips back into him.

"That's it, baby," she moaned against the bed. "Fuck that tight little asshole!"

I slid a finger into her, then two, pushing them all the way in. She gasped and panted, her breasts swaying under her, the nipples grazing their mattress. My thumb found her clit, rubbing it in circles and she cried, "Yes, oh yes!" when I started massaging it.

Kneeling up next to Doc, I watched him fuck her, his cock red and swollen, his eyes half closed, his breath coming faster and faster. I knew the sound of him growing close, now.

"I want to see you cum," I whispered, watching him drive deeper, harder. "Please."

He moaned, leaning in and kissing me, sucking my tongue into his mouth as he fucked her ass, that taut ring of flesh, never stopping. She was shaking, her thighs trembling, and I worked my hand faster, my fingers pressed deep into her, realizing I could actually feel his cock shoving into her through the thin membrane between the slick, smooth walls of her pussy and the humid tunnel of her ass.

"Doc!" she cried, grunting and shoving back on him, and I knew she was coming, I knew the sound, the shudder and thrust of her, and I rubbed and rubbed her clit, sending her.

"Yeah, baby," he groaned in response, pulling his cock out of her ass.

Without thinking, I grabbed it, pumping it in my fist over her ass. He held onto me as his hips bucked, his cum exploding over the small of her back. I pointed the head between her legs and watched as thick streams of hot, white fluid splashed over her now-gaping asshole, slipping down through her pussy lips in a rich, creamy river right down the center, aiming for her clit.

Mrs. B collapsed onto the bed, covered in his cum. I held his slick, softening cock in my hand and kissed him again.

"See?" Mrs. B murmured over her shoulder at me.

"Yes," I whispered against Doc's mouth with a shiver. And I did.

 

[Skip1934a]

1=Elusive Butterfly Of Love
and
10=CUM ON HER TITS


Hmmm.. quite a scale. Probably a 7. But that's an average.

Soft: (from Cry Wolf)

They slid easily over the rabbit skin, although there wasn't much wiggle room, their bodies pressed close together. She could feel the length of his hardness against her thigh, wanting to impale her like a spear. Outside, the wind howled and the dim light of the storm shed an eerie, beryline light over their faces.

Anana was hungry for him, her little belly rubbing against his, and they worked hard to heat the space with their body heat and ragged breath as they kissed and touched each other. She rolled on top of him, straddling him at the waist, the sleeping skin forcing her to lean forward, her breasts poised near his face. He sucked them, eager, his hips moving them both, up and down, although he wasn't inside her, yet.

"Aieeee," she cried as he slipped his hand between her legs, cupping the soft, dark hair of her mound. "Yes, yes." She rocked against him, grinding her pelvis into his hand, urging him with her movements to open her up. He parted her swollen lips, exploring the soft, wet, fleshy folds of her vulva with probing fingers.

She slithered further down his body, reaching between his legs and finding him. He felt enormous in her hand as she tugged and stroked, rubbing him over and over the softness between her legs. Davis held onto her, his fingers digging into the meaty flesh of her hips, moving along with her current, riding the eddies and swirls.



Hard: (from Babysitting the Baumgartners Ch. 13)


I put my arm over my eyes, panting, almost ashamed at my response. Mrs. B was kissing my shoulder and arm, and I felt Doc moving up to lie on the other side of me.

"Did you like that?" she whispered into my ear. "Didn't it feel good to have his finger in your ass?"

I moaned, peeking out at her, and whispered, "Yes."

"It's ok," she murmured. "I let him fuck my ass all the time."

I stared at her, remembering what Gretchen had said. I love a cock in my ass.

"Doesn't it hurt?" I asked.

She smiled. "Not if you do it right."

I looked over at Doc and then away. "It just... seems so... wrong... dirty..."

"That's part of what makes it fun," Doc whispered into my ear, making me shiver.

Mrs. B was tracing circles on my belly. "It's not, really. As long as you're clean."

I remembered in the bathtub, her pushing her finger into my ass.

"Does it..." I looked at her, frowning. "Does it feel good?"

She nodded. "Mmmm-hmm....god yes." Glancing over at Doc and some sort of communication seemed to pass between them. "Want to see?"

I felt my ass clench and I shook my head. "No!"

She chuckled, leaning in and kissing my cheek. "Not you... me."

"Oh." I glanced down, seeing that Doc was still at half-mast and standing up even straighter as Mrs. B knelt up, moving over me, kissing me.

"What—?" I started, but her mouth stopped me, her thighs pressing mine open under hers. Doc was moving behind her, I could see him above us.

"He has to lube everything up," she whispered against my cheek, resting her head on my shoulder. I could see that he had something in his hand, a tube, and he was squirting clear liquid into his hand.

"First he'll put it all over his cock..." I heard something slick, like the sound of his hand moving over his shaft.

"Then, he'll use his fingers... ohhhh..." Her body moved against mine, her back arching. I couldn't see what he was doing, but she told me. "He's putting his fingers in my ass, making it nice and slick."

"Does it hurt?" I whispered.

"No." She shook her head against my shoulder. "Just have to relax... open up... mmmm... let him work it open with his fingers..."

"Ready, baby?" Doc murmured, and I could feel her hands tightening on my shoulders as she nodded her head.

"Yes." She hissed and closed her eyes for a moment. "Oh god... he's pressing the head of his cock in... that's the hardest part... just have to... ohhhhhh god, baby."

I heard Doc groan a little, felt his weight shift on the bed. "It's okay, it's okay."

"Yes," she whispered again, loud enough for him to hear. "More... more..."

She kissed my cheek, my neck. "Ahhhh god... that's it, baby... I can take it... the head's almost in..."

I couldn't tell who she was talking to anymore, him or me. "Deeper... oooohhhh yeahhh... deeper... mmmmmmm."

She was rocking back a little against him now, her breasts swaying against mine. "He's in me, now... his cock is in my ass..."

I looked up at her face, the expression caught somewhere between pleasure and pain. "All the way in?" I gasped.

"Almost," she panted, groaning when he shoved into that last inch. She smiled at me, kissing me on the mouth, her tongue petting mine. I could feel him rocking her, fucking her, driving her forward onto me.

"Now comes the fun part," she whispered into my ear, pressing her breasts to mine. "Oooo god, that's gooood..."

She moaned and panted against my ear, rocking back against him. "Yes, baby, yes... fuck my ass!"

The sound of her words thrilled me, although I couldn't imagine his cock where it was, stretching her open...

"Want to see?" she whispered, like she was reading my mind. She went fully up to her hands and knees. "Go on."

I wiggled out from under, crawling behind her as Doc grabbed her hips, pressing deep. His eyes were on me, watching me as I knelt up next to her.

"See," he said, showing me, spreading her cheeks wide.

I could see his shaft reappearing as he pulled back, the head popping under that tight, wrinkled hole. The lube he had used glistened and pooled against her flesh. In spite of my hesitation and my own fear, my pussy was aching and I watched, fascinated, as he began to move through that snug channel even faster, making Mrs. B moan louder.

Sliding my hand along the back of her thigh, I found her pussy, wet and swollen. She arched her back, rocking against my hand, his cock. His balls were slapping against her flesh now and she ground her hips back into him.

"That's it, baby," she moaned against the bed. "Fuck that tight little asshole!"

I slid a finger into her, then two, pushing them all the way in. She gasped and panted, her breasts swaying under her, the nipples grazing their mattress. My thumb found her clit, rubbing it in circles and she cried, "Yes, oh yes!" when I started massaging it.

Kneeling up next to Doc, I watched him fuck her, his cock red and swollen, his eyes half closed, his breath coming faster and faster. I knew the sound of him growing close, now.

"I want to see you cum," I whispered, watching him drive deeper, harder. "Please."

He moaned, leaning in and kissing me, sucking my tongue into his mouth as he fucked her ass, that taut ring of flesh, never stopping. She was shaking, her thighs trembling, and I worked my hand faster, my fingers pressed deep into her, realizing I could actually feel his cock shoving into her through the thin membrane between the slick, smooth walls of her pussy and the humid tunnel of her ass.

"Doc!" she cried, grunting and shoving back on him, and I knew she was coming, I knew the sound, the shudder and thrust of her, and I rubbed and rubbed her clit, sending her.

"Yeah, baby," he groaned in response, pulling his cock out of her ass.

Without thinking, I grabbed it, pumping it in my fist over her ass. He held onto me as his hips bucked, his cum exploding over the small of her back. I pointed the head between her legs and watched as thick streams of hot, white fluid splashed over her now-gaping asshole, slipping down through her pussy lips in a rich, creamy river right down the center, aiming for her clit.

Mrs. B collapsed onto the bed, covered in his cum. I held his slick, softening cock in my hand and kissed him again.

"See?" Mrs. B murmured over her shoulder at me.

"Yes," I whispered against Doc's mouth with a shiver. And I did.

Good stuff, girl. Which one's biographical?

 

[hmmnmm]

I'm reminded once again why I really dislike participating in writing threads.

Maybe it's just me, but they always seem to boil down to arguing over what the 'proper' way to write is.

"All styles are good, except the boring." - Voltaire.

That's what it boils down to for me.

I recall a King of the Hill episode in which Bobby, since he had a natural talent for making people laugh, was sent to clown school. The first thing he learned was that according to the professor, he wasn't funny at all. After intensive study Bobby finally learned 'proper' by-the-book humor. But when he performed at the talent show, the only person who approved was Bobby's professor. Everyone else booed and hissed. When, at the last moment, Bobby went back to being himself and performing what was more natural for him, everyone laughed, except the professor.

Maybe this does or does not apply to something.

 

[Selena_Kitt]

Good stuff, girl. Which one's biographical?

Neither, exactly...

 

[Stella_Omega]

Will a comparison of soft and hard n my MF work do? I only have one Lesbian piece up, and it is decidedly soft.

You have to ask? Of course it will do!
We don't care about genres in this case, do we?

Mine were M/F- kind of a wierdo couple, but still- and F/F

 

[Skip1934a]

Neither, exactly...

Well, crap! I was hoping to blackmail you.

 

[FallingToFly]

Well, since Stella asked so sweetly

From Envy:

My hand is still moving on my cock, but almost automatically; this is the intermission, this little punishment scenario. It isn't real, not yet. This is you playing out your fantasy. You throw her back against the bed, hands going to the thin barrier that keeps her little taste of heaven from your greedy cock. The flimsy strings on either side snap when yanked, leaving her spread before you like some hedonist's fantasy feast. Her skin is as bare as a newborn's, the hair carefully shaved away. I can see the slick gleam of her femininity in the dim light, feel the moist warmth just a tiny movement away from my cock. Instead, it is you who presses her knees up and back, pulling her to the very edge of the bed. Her eyes are limpid with desire when she reaches down to stroke you, smoothing her thumb over the moist tip and pulling it back to her own lips to lick it clean.

You drive into her, sinking balls-deep with one thrust and stopping, letting the tight sheath adjust to your presence. That's not what she wants, you fool, she wants you to fuck her while she's tight, fuck her hard and open her up to that screaming orgasm of pain-laced pleasure. Your moment of self-control breaks and you pull back, thrusting into her again, and again, half-coherent curses and praise tumbling from your lips. She gasps beneath you and twists, her hips arching as the exquisitely sensitive muscles of her pussy grasps at you, fluttering against this invasion. My prick throbs in my hand, leaking copious amounts of pre-cum that she should be here to lick and suck up, drinking it down like the finest champagne.

You kiss her roughly, hands sliding around her waist to grab her abused backside and lift her against your cock, grinding. She whimpers, hips rolling, rubbing shamelessly, stoking her own rising lust against your body.

And from Fearless:

"Caleb, are you going to stare at me all day, or are you going to play for me?" She propped herself up on her elbow and grinned at me, silver eyes and white skin, her hair spread across my pillow in a tangled gilt cloud. The sheet slid another fraction of an inch downward and I swallowed hard against the sudden tightening in my throat. My fingers skittered and slid on the strings, drawing a painful screech of protest from the instrument. She just laughed.

"You scare the hell out of me, Laura." I could never be anything but honest with her. She waved a hand in airy dismissal and the sheet slid down again, catching itself on the satin rosettes of her nipples, the thin cotton draping her like some priceless statue.

"No, I don't," she replied, in easy scorn. "I just make you horny."

"That too," I agreed, watching as she sat up, the sheet pooling around her waist, revealing small, firm breasts and the play of well-disciplined muscles in her arms and stomach. She leaned back on her hands, those impudent nipples pouting at me. There were still faint pink marks on her skin where my lips and tongue had explored that sweet, forbidden territory.

"Well, if you're not going to play for me," she said with a smile designed to tempt saints to sin. "Come play with me."

Sometimes, the only thing you can do is kiss, press your worries and fears, all of reality away into the dark and just breathe, just be. She wrapped me in clean, cool cotton and warm, smooth skin. Tender small breasts pressed into my chest. Her lips were soft and yielding to my hungry mouth, her breath a small pleased murmur when my fingers stroked her, rubbing against that slick bundle of nerves that drew a ripple of pleasure through her body, a quick catch to her voice. She stroked her small hands through my hair, pushed the waves and curls from my eyes and sighed my name.

Making love with her- it was like falling. Breathless, headlong plunge into infinity, where all that mattered was her. The taste of her, her scent, getting into my blood and making me dizzy and drunk. She was everything- my perfect fit. Every delicate curve molded into me like she had been carved to match, every quick, light flex and push of muscle and bone washed through me and back into her, a wicked dance of tongues and teeth, hands and bodies rising and falling with the changing mood from laughter to lust. No matter how gently we started out, how easily we fell into that precious moment, it came to this; I found my rhythm in the roll and grind of her slender hips, her deep internal pulse of her that spun me out through the stars and brought pieces of us drifting safely back to earth in each others arms.

Hard and soft, for me... Envy was fun to write, one of those evil giggle writes, but Fearless had me crying as I finished it.

 

[Skip1934a]

From Envy:



And from Fearless:



Hard and soft, for me... Envy was fun to write, one of those evil giggle writes, but Fearless had me crying as I finished it.

Quit it. You're posting stuff I've already read, and I'm trying to go to bed.

G'night.

 

[FallingToFly]

Quit it. You're posting stuff I've already read, and I'm trying to go to bed.

G'night.

Night sweetie.

ANd just for fun, the start of a half-assed, half-written sex scene in Impossible Gifts.

“Jamie?” Celeste's voice was timid, floating through the dark. “Are you awake?”

Lying in the big bed, staring at the ceiling, Jamie thought about not answering. <i>I can leave her there, wondering if I heard. She'll give up, eventually, go away.</i> Instead, he lifted himself on his elbows and looked through the darkness at the door.

“I'm awake. Is something wrong?”

“I don't know. Can I come in?” Hovering in the doorway, she was just another piece of the night, her flyaway curls giving her silhouette ragged edges.

“Sure. Come on in.”

She pattered across the wooden floor to the edge of the bed and hesitated. He watched her without speaking, wondering what she wanted. After an eternity of waiting, she slipped up onto the bed, and he felt the light brush of her fingers against his shoulder.

“Jamie?”

“What, Celeste?” She startled at his harsh tone, and then her fingers touched him again with more certainty. Her shadow moved over him, her warm body settling against his. He started to speak, but she touched his lips lightly.

“Remember that conversation we had about friends?”

He hummed an affirmative against her skin, and felt the breathless exhale of laughter.

“Friends are overrated.” Her fingers moved, to be replaced with her lips, soft and shy, pressing against his. Of their own volition his hands came up, stroking along the bare skin of her arms, finding her shoulders and gently breaking the kiss.

“Celeste.. don't. Don't fall in bed with me just because I'm the first person who's ever gotten close to you.”

“Jamie,” she chided playfully. “If I wasn't sure of anything else, I'd be sure of this. Let me stay with you, please.”

“I don't want you to regret-” She cut off his words with another kiss. There was nothing shy about this one, she cradled his face in her hands and pressed herself to him, heat shivering between their touching bodies. He surrendered to her artless, inexperienced ardor with a desperate hunger of his own, his arms closing around her as they kissed. She whimpered at the sudden possession of his mouth, the rough, bruising demand of his hands.

 

[tanyachrs]

I write porn and I like to read porn. I put effort into the porn I write and it's the best stuff I've ever written, but I've got no problem calling it hard core porn. I sometimes make it a challenge to see how much backstory and characterization I can sneak in unnoticed, but if none makes it in, that's OK too.

 

[Stella_Omega]

I write porn and I like to read porn. I put effort into the porn I write and it's the best stuff I've ever written, but I've got no problem calling it hard core porn. I sometimes make it a challenge to see how much backstory and characterization I can sneak in unnoticed, but if none makes it in, that's OK too.

Miss Manners asks that you put a link to your profile in your siggy- so the rest of the class can share...

 

[tanyachrs]

I feel bad putting a link in my signature because I have signatures turned off. Seems hypocritical to tout my own stuff via a feature I don't use, though perhaps it's a service to those of you who like sigs. I compromised by putting a link to my submissions page on my profile (as my home page).

 

[Skip1934a]

I feel bad putting a link in my signature because I have signatures turned off. Seems hypocritical to tout my own stuff via a feature I don't use, though perhaps it's a service to those of you who like sigs. I compromised by putting a link to my submissions page on my profile (as my home page).

I vote with Stella. Use your sig to point to your stories. Many will never look in your profile for a story link. I would not have without reading here that you put it there. What I found when I followed the link were a lot of HOT stories. Blow your horn!

 

[FallingToFly]

I agree as well...
And I turned my sigs off for two days once, and got annoyed with having to go hunting through the Author Index to find my friends' submission pages. You miss a lot of fun stuff with sigs turned off- like my Knight link And some really, really funny quotes like lilredjammies' "Welcome to the AH. Now quit being a fuckwaffle!"

 

[elfin_odalisque]

I'd rather not, because Erotica usually only serves to depress me by reminding me that I'm lonely. Woohoo!

No! In my typically constipated way I tried to disagree with you.

Real, good erotica depresses no-one. It is a warm fuzzy scarf you wrap round you to feel better in the cold winds of real life. It is an attractive friend that nuzzles next to you on the banquette and asks if you like spooning honey and warm chocolate off bare flesh.

Erotica is never aggressive, always affectionate and never concerns itself with hammered cervixes. I can read it, recognize it but find it difficult to write.

Good erotica wraps itself round the lonely reader and leaves them feeling happier.