Are we all looking for the same things?

I've been working on an idea for a new story. The premise is that two people - each married to someone else - are looking for someone to satisfy what's missing in their existing relationships. They meet through an online ad.

So, to do some research, I've been reading online ads for married people who are looking. It became quickly apparent that everyone is basically looking for the same things...sex (obviously) in new/exciting ways, and someone who will help them recapture that feeling of being newly in love/lust, that excitement and anticipation. I'll admit - I miss those things, too. So why is it, then, that we aren't able to get this from our current partners? Why do people have to resort to looking elsewhere? Many are also quick to note that they do not want to replace or leave their current relationship - just find someone who can provide the missing elements and enable them, I guess, to stay where they are.

What would happen if everyone were granted three free passes a year when they got married? Each pass would entitle the user to one no-strings-attached encounter that was not up for discussion with your partner. You choose when to use it, who to use it with, and why. The same goes for your partner. Would that be enough to keep people happy?

Me - I like NSA sex. But I also prefer to have some sort of relationship with the person - as in, we're friends w/ benefits, I guess. I don't like the idea of picking up someone online, or at a bar, or whatever. And that could, I suppose, complicate things if I were in a "3 passes/year" relationship, because jealousy exists in everyone to some degree.

What do you think? Are we all just looking for the same thing? If so, why can't we be content with what we have at home, and work on bringing back the excitement and newness that has dulled over time, due to familiarity or family or whathaveyou? Or is it better to try to satisfy those occasional needs outside the relationship, in the interest of not rocking the boat?

It is finished.

It is short, this new piece. Only a mere 1000 words. But yet I think it does what it is supposed to do, says what it needed to say. I am sending it off to my two beta readers, who will, hopefully, report back to all of you with their initial impressions, and will provide me with any feedback to improve my latest project.

For those who are wondering, and who would like a little taste of what is to come, here is the beginning of the newly-born story.

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While Waiting

I knew when I saw him it would be hard to say no. These long years later, I still can’t refuse. Any minute now, he will be walking through the door of this dark bar, and any willpower I may have had will evaporate. I will feel the tingle in my legs, the pit of my stomach will drop into my twat, and all I will be able to focus on is the subtle sway of his hips as he walks toward my table. His voice will be in my head before he speaks.

“Hi.” The simple word caresses my check, then slips into my ear like his tongue has done so many times before. My breath quickens to match my pounding heart. I can feel my pulse in my clit, measuring the moments until he’s behind me. He will sweep my hair to one side and kiss my neck, softly, gently, behind my ear. My head will roll, away, around, and my lips will find his.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Review from Beta Reader #1:
Well, beta reader #1 loved it. She says that had her husband been home, he would have been one lucky man. I'm sure he was thrilled to hear that when he did finally arrive home. Beta reader #2 will be reporting in tomorrow, I hope.

Review from Beta Reader #2:
Beta reader #2 said it was "sweet and romantic." Not necessarily what I was going for, but ok. He also said: "That wasn't smut, it was erotica. Very skilled erotica." He worries when reading future perfect tense. Funny, since I worry when writing it. It's not a style I plan to cultivate or attempt on a regular basis, but sometimes the story decides how it will be told, which was future perfect tense in this case. It's not something a lot of writers try, because it's easy to mess up. Mine was, he said, "technically perfect." So that's nice to hear. I do appreciate good grammar, and try to produce it whenever possible.

Back in the saddle again

Yes, dear readers, the muse has returned and I am back to writing again. You saw the newest poem in yesterday's post, and I am putting the finishing touches on a new story. This one's a little out of the ordinary for me - more along the lines of a stream of conciousness-type story rather than a full-on plotted story. So it's different, but I think it might just work. I'll send it off to the beta-readers when I have it wrapped up and, if they like it, you'll see it submitted to literotica and erotic stories. Should that be the case, I'll post the announcement here.

So what else is new between the satin sheets? Things is good, things is busy, things is things. Had a few mamas havin' babies so that's been good. The life of a birth doula is full of happy moments! But when you've been up all night at a birth after putting in a full day of work before that, it's hard to spell sex, much less do it or write about it, considering someone else's sex is the reason you're so tired you can't see straight. However...Hmmm.....well....let's just say I've had several brushes with inspiration lately. As my little one would say, "that's all i'm sayin' 'bout that." ;) Hopefully it will be enough to keep the muse around long enough to get some good work done on the page.

I'm hoping some of you regular readers will start posting some comments - let me know you've been here and what's on your mind. It makes it a heck of a lot more interesting for me that way!

Happy Hump Day, friends and luvers. Take two spankings and call me in the morning! :)

A new poem

Tuesday 1:32 p.m.

he called
i came
once for him
twice for me
my cunt still throbs
his name
a prayer
on my lips
disconnected

Apologies and restitution....

I'm sorry it's been a few weeks since my last post. I found a free vid site that has been perhaps a bit too entertaining, as I'm much more fond of watching videos than posting, these days... So I'm offering you all the benefits of the free amateur site as well, in the hopes you will accept my apology and temporary neglect of this little slice of my life. YuVuTu....

Lemme know what your fave videos are.... :)

How pure are you?

it's been a long time since i took the purity test. wow - have i come a long way since i was 18!!! :) so, kids, how pure are you?? I'm only 43% pure now. and there are a number of things that are still on my 'to do' list. some of you may know what those are - the rest of you can just wonder! (clue: no animals or excrement involved)

So go - take the test. let us know how pure YOU are.

The kink test - take 2

I took the kink test awhile ago, and I thought it might be fun to retake it. They must have changed some of the questions, because this time my score was 622, which is a "major league kinkster." ooo...moving up in the kink world!

So, kiddos - how kinky are you? take the test and share your scores.

Ah...the power of cheese....

Given this excess of sexual energy, I decided to flip through my unfinished story files and see if I could get another story in the can. Imagine my surprise when I found Part 3 of one of my personal faves, complete except for the final sex scene. What was I thinking??? So I got that wrapped up nicely and it was published today on site #1, along with the "Dear Diary" story I finished the other day. I'll get it submitted to literotica later today, which means it'll be up there within a week (they're much slower about posting submissions, probably due to the sheer volume they receive). I'm feeling quite pleased with myself. :P And I finally got laid last night. It was freakin' fantastic. My knees were killing me, but that's not why I saw stars!!

Now if I could just convince myself that my regular work is as gratifying as writing erotica....

What's your kink?

What's your kink type?
Submission You live to serve! You're most excited when someone else takes the reins and controls the situation. You're happy to do whatever will make your partner happy, even if it isn't your favorite thing to do. In the bedroom, you aim to please. Your motto is, "Yes Sir/Ma'am!"
Take The Quiz Now!	Quizzes by myYearbook.com

Making progress

Well, I channeled some of that sexual energy into finishing up a story I'd been working on for awhile. My beta readers - mentioned in a previous post - will be quite happy to get to the ending, I think. They've received their draft copies, as has another writer friend, and now I'm just waiting for feedback.

And because I've been thinking alot about that crossing the line idea, I'm working on a story with that as a theme. I think it might just turn out to be one of my hotter reads.

One of the most difficult parts of being a writer is that I tend to procrastinate. I noodle on a story for a long time before sitting down to put it on paper. And then, I find myself getting close to the end, and I have to take a break for awhile. Let the story simmer awhile before I close it out. I'm not sure what that says about me as a person.

I've also been noodling a lot on what makes a woman sensuous. Here's a list of characteristics I've come up with so far:

• tactile
• hedonistic
• uses all her senses to experience something
• isn't afraid to take risks when the time is right
• mirrors body language
• leads but doesn't push
• values "soft and slow" and uses them to her advantage
• pays as much attention to what's not said as what is said
• makes him feel like the center of her world at that moment
• savors every experience to the fullest

Anything you'd add to that list? I'd love to know....

Blame it on the moon

It's a rough day today for Bedtime Storyteller. I'm about to crawl out of my skin with desire, and there's not a darn thing I can do about it.

Don't you just hate seeing someone you have a past with, remembering how great it was, and how easy it would be to just fall right back into the old habits? How you know that if you run your hand up his thigh, or suck very gently on his earlobe, he'll turn to you with those soft lips and make love to your mouth? How the sound of his voice can still make your panties damp, and if you close your eyes you can still taste him?

Yeah...it's been that kind of day.

It doesn't help matters any that I'm at my most fertile right now, and I'm guessing that my hormones must be in major overdrive. I've not been this horny in...well...a long time. I feel like a hormone with feet. The weather has finally been nice, and I like to drive with the sunroof open and the windows down, particularly in the evening, when the breeze is warm but not too hot, and I can smell the river. But even the feel of the breeze on my skin feels like a lover's hands, and it's sensory overload.

I think I need to just lock myself in a room alone before I get into trouble.

I ran across an interesting article about the effect of the moon, a woman's cycle, and her desire. Here's one particularly telling quote:

Nature has an ingenious way of attracting a prospective mate to us. Hormones are secreted into the air by our bodies that tell others around us that our bodies are ripe and ready for fertilization. Many of us feel at our peak during this time projecting vivacious, sexy vibes while we exude our heated pheromones.

So I'm blaming it on the moon. And pheromones. And anything else I can think of.

This might be a good time to get a few of those stories finished. If I can't act on it, maybe my characters can!

Chemistry...resonance...vibrations...

Sexual resonance. A friend commented recently that I have this sexual resonance that pulls people in. That I'm more comfortable with my sexuality than this person is.

I'd never heard that before. So I checked with another friend, who confirmed it. She, on the other hand, is even more comfortable with her sexuality than I am.

And then I was curious. What exactly is "sexual resonance"? Here's how one blogger described it:

One way to define "sexual chemistry" is as a kind of resonance. (defined as: "energetic vibrations of a body produced by application of a periodic force of nearly the same frequency as that part of the free vibration of the affected body")..... sexual chemistry occurs when there is resonance between two people ...... YOU RESONATE WITH (OR ARE TUNED ON BY) PEOPLE WHOSE VIBRATIONAL ENERGY IS SIMILAR TO YOURS.

hmmm....so if I have a sexual resonance, people who pick up on that must have a similar sexual energy. Interesting, don't you think?

And perhaps that sexual resonance is what makes some erotic stories so much more believable than others. If the reader can pick up on a sexual resonance between the characters, or even of one of the characters, the reader can become that much more involved in the story. I think that's what makes some erotic stories seem 'flat' - there's little or no real chemistry between the characters. It would be interesting to compare erotic stories based on fact vs. those that are purely fiction in terms of their perceived sexual resonance. My hypothesis is that those based on fact would have a higher degree of sexual resonance than those with no factual basis.

Returning to my conversations with my friends that launched this who discussion in the first place ---- I got to thinking, what exactly is it about me that people perceive as a sexual resonance? I'm not in the habit of dressing in provocative or revealing clothes, I don't do a lot of casual touching in most settings, even with close friends, although I will admit to being a hugger. My close friends know I write erotica. Some of them also read what I write. Some of them are featured in stories I've written. But when I think back to others I've felt that chemistry with, people who were not surveyed for my informal research, even I can't explain what attracted us to each other, just that the chemistry was very evident and immediate.

So what about you, dear readers? What are your thoughts on sexual resonance or chemistry? Had it? Looking for it? Think it's a bunch of hooey? Discuss amongst yourselves...

Crossing the line...

I'm wondering if any of you have ever crossed the line between friendship and fantasy. This seems to be a common theme in a lot of erotic stories, and I wonder is it because people *want* to do it and are afraid to, or because people actually do and then feel compelled to "confess" it in a story?

Over the years, I've gone down that road a few times, and never with disastrous consequences. Oftentimes, it's been a kind of goodbye fling, with one of us leaving and we just said goodbye a little more intimately than we had planned. And it's not always sex - sometimes it was just a serious make-out session, as though we had to get something out of our systems before we parted ways.

I can't think of any situations in which our friendships ended as a result, either. I've been really fortunate in that regard - my friends are my friends. For example, there was Ian - we were really good friends our first 2 years of college. He dated one of my friends, we hung out a lot, had classes together, and partied together. At the end of our sophomore year, he was transferring to another school. And so, the night before graduation at our huge end-of-year annual bash, we hooked up. (And the sex, from what I recall, was pretty darn amazing, although the location left a little to be desired.) Several years ago, we found each other on the 'net, and started talking again - it was as though we had just been separated for a summer, rather than the 6 or so years it had been.

The reason I'm thinking about all this is because a friend of mine recently stepped pretty close to that line with a friend of his. She's much more comfortable with that situation than he is, but he also tends to analyze things to death and does waaaay too much thinking for his own good. But it's a tough spot for both of them to be in, as they do work together as well. Not closely, but still... I think he's afraid she's going to come on to him at the office, or somehow people will find out. Knowing both of them, though, that's highly unlikely to happen. Unless, of course, he decides he needs to analyze it with someone else, and that person can't keep a lid on it. (You all know how office grapevines are, I'm sure.)

What is it about that invisible line that is so seductive? People love to flirt with that line, tapping a toe closer and closer, and then they seem surprised when they trip over it. Sure, you never want to lose a friend on account of one night of curiousity, but I do have to say that sometimes your friendship can be so much better once that curiosity is sated. The air is cleared, the tension is gone, and you can go back to being the good friends you were before.

I'm not advocating crossing the line - I'm just saying, if you're going to flirt with the idea, you need to be prepared for what happens when you do cross it. because sooner or later, you will. You're all adults - you know how this works! It's all fun and games until someone gets their feelings hurt.

Speaking of feelings, though ----- I really don't recommend flirting with that line unless you're absolutely sure that neither of you has a romantic interest in the other, or you're absolutely sure that you both have a romantic interest in each other. Because if the feeling scale is lopsided, someone WILL get hurt. But if it's just about curiosity or really good sex or whatever, and neither of you has high expectations about anything beyond that one tentative encounter, then go for it.

And yes, kids, I am all for having fuck friends when you can. There's just something about knowing you can have a good time with a good friend and not wake up in the morning with regret hanging over your head like a cloud. Life's too short for regrets, my friends.

Fun with Friends on Humpday

So today I was doing a little more research, and thought I'd have a little fun w/ a friend at the same time. I happen to know he has a thing for schoolgirls and spankings, particularly if they're redheads, so I forwarded a few links and some photos to him. Too bad he couldn't see the links while he was at work. Here's a little taste of what I sent him:

It's always fun when you know what turns your friends on. You can be nice and share things they might find interesting, or you can use it as a form of torture or to your advantage. Many times, these things find their way into my stories.

I do have to admit that your Bedtime Storyteller is partial to someone else being in control, although on occasion, it can be quite fun to play the switch. (Right, Elicia?)

So what about you, dear readers? What turns you on? Do you like schoolgirls bent over the desk for a little well-deserved punishment? Or would you rather be that schoolgirl, begging for one more chance? (Or better yet, one more swat?) Do tell....I promise your secret is safe with me.

A good instructional video

Ran across this video while doing research. Interesting on many levels. God, I'd love to be her!! There is sound, so make sure your volume is up and you're alone. ;)

Men, feel free to take notes -- this is what a mindblowing orgasm looks like.

And if you don't have an account, sign up - it's free! (Of course, make sure it's legal for you to do so.)

tangled up in you

I’m tangled up in you,
like memories mixed with summer
laughter and sunshine
tied up in sultry moonlight.

Dark hair and bottomless eyes
swallow me swallowing you.
I’m tangled up in you,
skin on skin and blue shadows dancing.

Twelve winters checked off
since you left me waiting,
the river spilling over her green shoulders,
and I’m still tangled up in you.

I have now seen everything....

I'm doing some research for a story (part 3, in case you were wondering), and I ran across The Accommodator. What will they think of next??? Although he (or she, I suppose) would look REEEEALLY silly wearing it, one does have to admit the concept is rather clever. Efficient, really. And sex toys should never make an appearance in family photos anyway, so as long as your partner is left smiling and sated, who cares what you look like while you're doing it?

In a quandry...

I have three stories currently in progress. You might say that I can't commit to any one of them long enough to get it finished, but sometimes I have to do something else for awhile until the muse returns and directs me back to finish the tale. But that's not the quandry. This is. I have a story currently published that contains two parts. There is room for a third part, a part which I have ideas for but have not started. As of late, I have received several requests for part 3, including some ongoing dialogue with a reader about the appropriate plot line. So of course now I'm noodling over what might happen in part 3, and if the characters have any ideas of their own. But then, if I start part 3, then I will have 4 - count 'em, FOUR - stories in the works. Is that really fair to the other 3 who would be left hanging?

On the other hand, I really enjoy the characters in this particular story, and I think part 3 could be a somewhat easy write. As I said, I have some ideas for the next encounter, along with some interesting suggestions from a particularly interested reader.

And thus, the quandry.

What would you do, dear friends, if we were to switch places and you could be Bedtime Storyteller for a day??

Submitting to the story

It's no secret - I'm submissive. But what I didn't expect was that I could find myself submitting to a story. Sometimes, when I'm writing a particularly compelling story, the strangest thing happens - the story controls me. It doesn't just tell itself through my pen, but even when I'm not writing, I find myself seeing the world through the story's eyes. I find myself responding to others as though I were the story. I dream the story at night. I'm just consumed by the story.

I'm certain I can't be the only writer who finds this happening....can I?

Sex is a beautiful thing

There are so many people who thing sex is dirty, nasty, or something to be ashamed of. Too many people. Sex is life. If it weren't for sex, there would be no life! Sex fluids have a purpose, people! They're something to be grateful for, something to be enjoyed, something to revel in. Sex fluids, like sex, connect us.

I cannot tell you how sweet it is to taste myself on the lips of my lover. Each person has their own distinct taste, a fingerprint of flavor that is meant to be savored. Salty, sweet, tangy, bitter...mmmm.... I can still recall the taste of one lover in particular, a taste so rich and so decadent that I think I will never forget him. If you were to line up a dozen men, and put my lover in that lineup, I could pick him out blindfolded.

Don't waste the taste, kids! Savor it, swirl it around on your tongue like fine wine, and swallow it gratefully. Cum is a gift. Give it, receive it, and remember it.

Going Back for Seconds

I offer you a story for your reading pleasure...

The slate sky was streaked with rose, butter, and lilac, and the still air was pregnant with moisture. A storm was building to the south. The river was quiet as it slid between the banks, shaded by willows and speckled with dragonflies. She sat beside him, feeling suddenly awkward as his shoulder pressed up against hers. Seeing him again was impulsive on her part, but necessary. Necessary? she asked herself. Yes, necessary. Their first meeting had left her wondering what could be. She had agreed to a second meeting because, well, quite simply, there was no other option. She felt compelled to see him again. Staying away was unthinkable.

She shyly met his eyes, her gaze dropping and lingering on his lips as he tilted his head toward hers. She met him halfway, her mouth drawn to his by some invisible force. His lips were soft, his kisses tender and teasing. She leaned into him, wanting his mouth on hers as he held his lips just out of reach. His breath was warm, and they breathed in tandem. His hand caressed hers, his fingers tracing a path along her palm before he laced his fingers with hers, pulling her hand to his as his mouth found hers again. He squeezed her hand before releasing it to wrap one arm around her back, holding her close to him. Her hand lifted to cup his cheek, then slowly slid around to the back of his head, her fingers tangling in his blond hair as he made love to her with his mouth.

She moaned against his lips, wanting something she couldn't quite put a name to, trusting that he would take her there when the time was right. It was so hard to think when he kissed her like that, alternating between light and teasing and hard and insistent. He kept her guessing, and with each kiss her desire grew. She needed to feel him...she needed to know if he was as turned on as she, if his need was as great as hers... Her hand moved to find him through his jeans, and he pulled away, telling her no. She could hardly believe what she was hearing; how could he not want her to touch him? He continued to kiss her, and she tried to keep her hands to herself, but they had a mind of their own and caressed his chest, his back, around his waist...

Kissing him was like sliding under a feather comforter and discovering satin sheets, comfortable and familiar yet sexy and sensual and surprising all at the same time. She let her mind float as her lips played with his of their own accord. She was beyond coherent thought now, time ceasing to exist as his tongue explored her mouth, laying claim to it as a prospector to a stream. His kisses were dreamlike, quiet and soft, then increasing in intensity, his mouth growing more insistent, pushing her desire to another level, then becoming light as a whisper, tasting, teasing, caressing. These kisses translated feelings without words, and she lost herself in the feel of his lips on hers, the taste of his tongue, the touch of his hands on her face, warm and firm, holding her captive to his kisses.

How could something so wrong feel so unbelievably right? Five and a half years younger than she, and one of them was promised to another. Yet here she was, sitting on the floor of a gazebo overlooking the river, mosquitoes competing for her flesh, not only kissing this man she had only seen twice, but kissing him with a passion she hadn't felt in at least ten years. "I'm going to hell," she thought, as her hands spanned his back. She moaned her surrender as his lips found that sweetly sensitive spot on the curve of her neck just below her ear. "I've got a one-way ticket and my bags are packed."

She could clearly remember the last time she had felt drunk on kissing, that heady rush of desire and breathless anticipation, but even that was nothing compared to this. He held his mouth centimeters away from hers, their lips parted on the brink of touching. She could feel his breath, their breath, mingling, making her crave him even more. She wanted him, needed him, to kiss her again. "Please," she whimpered, the plea coming out of the very depths of her soul. In a heartbeat, his mouth was on hers, hard, crushing her lips beneath his, taking her breath away. When she felt like she would surely spiral away into nothingness, he ended the kiss, his eyes locked with hers, his gaze so intimate and deep she felt as though he could see right through her.

He pulled himself up on his knees, raising himself above her, forcing her to tilt her head back to meet his mouth, leaving her neck exposed to his gentle touch. At first, she was concerned that he was going to get up and walk away, but when she asked him where he was going, he replied "Nowhere" and continued kissing her. The position enabled him to kiss with even more force, trapping her lips with his, her head back against the slatted side of the gazebo. She belonged to him for as long as he wanted her. Kissing him was pure torture. A pure, unadulterated, blissful torture she hoped would never end.

When she opened her eyes again, it was dark, and the only light came from an occasional car on the road and the streetlight over the access road to the gazebo. She glanced at her phone and realized they had been kissing for over an hour. How on earth could an hour have passed so quickly? But it had, and she needed to get home. They stood up together, and she stepped down off the platform they had been on. He touched her shoulder and she turned around, right into his arms, and she rested her head on his chest as he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. She tilted her head up to him, and again he kissed her, forcing her to stand on her tiptoes and rely on him to steady her when her knees grew weak. Some time later, they came up for air and walked unsteadily to her car, their arms wrapped around each other, stealing kisses with every other step.

They reached the car, a white island in the dark night, and the importance of that milestone sank in. She was taking him back to his car, and the evening was drawing to a close. As she moved to open the passenger door for him, he moved in to her, backing her up against the car and holding her hands, his fingers laced with hers, as he kissed her with a ferocious passion that forced her head back to the roof of the car, arching her breasts into his chest. As she walked back around to her side of the car, her mind was blank. A hotel. The thought came out of nowhere. We could just go get a room, she realized. But no. She was expected at home, and he had an hour's drive back to his house once she returned him to his car at the mall. Consummating their relationship was not possible tonight. And besides, if this was the state his kisses left her in, she couldn't even begin to think about what making love with him might do to her.

She poured herself into the driver's seat and paused after shutting the door. She couldn't remember what to do next, and stared at the dash like it was the cockpit of a jumbo jet. Her head dropped back against the headrest and she closed her eyes, breathing deeply. It was all she could do not to reach over and kiss him again, but kissing him again would be her undoing. She felt his hand on hers, his thumb sliding over hers, grounding her again. She could do this. She could start the car and drive – on autopilot for sure – back to the mall and drop him off and go home, home to her husband and kids. But there was no doubt in her mind that she would see him again. There was no other choice to make.

The drive back to the mall was quiet, and he held her hand the whole way, keeping her focused and continuing the slow seduction which had begun 2 hours earlier. At one point, she pulled his hand over and kissed it, sucking his index finger into her mouth, swirling her tongue around it as she slid her mouth down the length of it. She heard him inhale sharply, and she slowly, gently slid it back out, nipping at the tip with her teeth before kissing his fingertip and returning his hand to his lap. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see his head was back, his eyes were closed. She wanted him to know how badly she wanted him, how much she wanted to please him, that the seduction was mutual.

When they finally pulled up beside his car and she slid the gearshift into park, they turned to each other and kissed again, a soft, gentle, open-mouthed kiss that spoke of promises and possibilities and next times. As he turned to slide out of the car, she leaned over and kissed the back of his neck along his hairline, and he moaned. "I've got to go," he whispered. She kept kissing. "I'm going...I'm..."

"Go," she whispered in his ear as her tongue traced the curves of his earlobe. He leaned back into her and turned his head, his mouth seeking hers again. Her head reeled with the sensation of his lips on her, just as magical as the first time. She pulled back. "Go. I don't want you to, but you've got to while I can still let you go."

He kissed her again, quickly this time, and got out of the car, looking at her with a longing she had never seen before. "Goodbye," he whispered. "I'll talk to you later," and he shut the door.

She didn't stay to watch him drive away, preferring to get out of the parking lot while she still could, resisting the urge to follow him to his house and finish what he started. Her lips were swollen and rosy from kissing him, and she had a glow she couldn't hide. He was amazing, and she would see him again.

How kinky are you???

Take the kink test and find out!

I scored 565, which is "kinkier than most"...and I do enjoy being above average! :)

Thank heaven for editors...

I sent the beginning of the diary story to two friends to read provide feedback -- essentially I was asking, if you started this story, would you want to finish it? So far, one has responded yes, with some constructive criticism, and the other won't be reading until this evening. He prefers to save erotica for the weekends, I guess.

When I read back over the story, the thing that strikes me the most is that it's as though I like the guy's bathroom more than I like him. I spend more time describing his loo than I do describing him. Is that a problem? I'm not sure. We'll see if editor #2 notices.

In the meantime, I did go ahead and finish part 2 of a story I'd started 2 years ago, about a woman who meets an online friend. In part 1, she can't help but see him a second time. In part 2, she goes to meet him for a third time. Part 1 got very good reviews with many requests for Part 2. Part 2, however, is receiving mixed reviews. So far it's only posted on one site - will be posted on site 2 by Monday, where it may get more exposure (and where feedback was more positive than the other site).

I'm wondering if it's worth posting stories here.... If I did, is it likely anyone would notice? Who knows - I just might give it a try...

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I finally heard back from editor #2. He liked the story and felt it was definitely worth continuing, with no concerns about the amount of time spent describing the bathroom. So the story will continue.

As for the other story, part 2 was posted on the other site, and is getting mediocre votes. They're ok, but they're not as good as part 1. Part 1, for the record, has been posted here: Going Back for Seconds.

Beginnings (again)

And so I'm trying to write a new story. The previous one never did make it to the page. Just couldn't get into it. I think I do better when I write from personal experience, even if there's just the hint of truth behind the storyline. And, seeing as how this new story doesn't have an iota of truth behind it, I'm not entirely sure that it will ever see publication, but only time will tell.

This one is told through the diary of a young woman who, due to a series of choices, finds herself facing eviction and default on student loans unless she comes up with a second job that can work around her primary job hours and pays really well. Dancing topless isn't something she can see herself doing. She's tried waitressing, but still finds herself coming up short. But then, opportunity falls into her lap. An acquaintance - with a lot of spare change and not a lot of free time - is looking for someone who will, to be blunt, fuck him a few times a week for money. He's good looking, is a doctor, and could have any woman he wanted. But he prefers to set up a business arrangement of sorts with someone he knows and trusts. And so she agrees to give it a go, just once she tells herself. Just once.

I think what fascinates me most about this story is the illegality of prostitution. It's ok for women to give themselves away, but not to charge for the use of their bodies. Seems like a rule made by men, don't ya think?? So it's ok for me to "rent" my body for medical research studies, to "rent" my mind to market researchers, and "rent" myself to my employer, but I can't charge for the use of my twat. It just makes no sense. And yet, for some women, this is the only thing of value they have with which to make a living. The more I think about it, the more I think it ought to just be legalized. But I digress.

I just finished editing about 8 pages of a story for a friend of mine. His story isn't sexual - or not yet, anyway. I think he's toying with the idea of a novel. So far it's not something that grips me, although I am a little curious about what happens next and why things have happened the way they have so far. But what really gets me is his strange use of punctuation. He has a fascination with semicolons. Drives me up a wall. He also seems to have a hard time writing in a conversational tone. The main character is telling the story, and yet he "talks" to the reader as though he's writing a paper for school. I think that's what I have the hardest time with. I can't relate to this character at all.

So that's all that's on my mind tonight. Well, all that's writing related, anyway. More another day....