I was going to write a story, and then I didn’t.

Starting a story is difficult. In theory, it should be the easiest; just pick a spot along a timeline being woven in your head. The characters, do they meet in a bar? In their home? A sports game? On the road? Are they lovers, family, strangers. Should it be written in third person? First? Who?

Should one write as the male, describing the way the female seduces you? The way she bats her eyes, a sly smile giving you naughty ideas. The way she makes her way across the room to you, her hips methodically moving back and forth. The way she whispers into your ear, the way her warm breath makes your body tingle. The way leads you to the back of the establishment. The way her lips taste, their warmth, your tounges dancing between each other. The way she coos and chirps, leading you around in circles. The way her slender fingers slip into your pants, wrapping around your throbbing cock like a boa constrictor around its prey. The way her small pink nipples stand out on her pale skin in the dim light. The way they stiffen as you play with them, her giving complimentary whimpers. The way her hair feels between your fingers as she places your dick delicately into her moist mouth. The way her tongue tickles your head, her fingers softly pulling your balls. The way she is not concerned with being neat, letting saliva coat her chin and dribble onto her breasts. The way she makes your cock feel, deep within her mouth, as you shoot your seed into it. The way she spares none of it, making sure to swallow all of it before leaving. The way she treats you not like a partner; for it is much too one-sided.

Or, should one write as the female. Should one describe the way he kisses you, the way he pins you against the wall. The way you are unable to resist moaning as he runs a hand between your legs. The way he wastes no time pulling off your skirt, taking your lingerie along with it. The way you feel as his fingers roll your nipples between them. The glorious sight of his stiff dick, the feel of its heat in your hand. To describe the way that you feel the tip parting your labia, opening the gates of heaven. The way it feels as your most private are is being gently stretched. The way that you moan and whimper, his hips slapping against your ass with every thrust. The way that you shudder in orgasmic bliss, the waves of ecstasy rolling across your body. The way it feels to have hot creamy cum shot onto your smooth stomach, the way it feels between your fingers as you play with it. The way he watches you spread it about. The way you giggle and smile as you take a joint shower to clean off. The feeling of his soapy fingers exploring your body.

None of it could happen without the beginning… or could it. Could a story begin in the middle, begin with a thick cock inside you. You don’t know who you are, who they are, where y’all are, just that you are having sex. Or maybe a story could begin at the end. Begging after you have had sex, after the cum had been swallowed or cleaned, the shower had been taken. What would happen? Would it- could it be considered erotica? There’s always a way. For many, just hearing about luscious sex is enough to arouse. For others, a well-crafted story is needed.

I have never shared erotica before, and I was going to write something nice and short, but I have hit a wall, and thus, have started to write whatever my fingers type. I would say this is erotica, though not in a story sense. I shall try to write something “legitimate”, but I am interested to see if this is removed or not.

Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/ftw2oz/i_was_going_to_write_a_story_and_then_i_didnt